On Dragon Hill

Back To PEI

2011-09-30T09:30:00.000-07:00

Restored Tractor

P.E.I. and I do not have the best of relationships. I know the "Island" is a popular tourist destination, but every time I try to play tourist there, I get rain, fog or man-eating mosquitoes. One year we planned a week long family "Island" vacation in a rental cottage. It rained for the first three days, and when the sun finally came out on the forth , we sent the children out to play only to have them forced back in by giant mosquitoes. Then it rained for three more days. PEI retained the "Worst Vacation Ever" honor for years.

Now we did give The Island chances to redeem itself. after all it’s always sunny on any of the "Anne Of Green Gables" TV shows, but even on three subsequent trips over we were assaulted with wet weather and mosquitoes. As a result, I wrote Prince Edward Island off as a place to avoid unless absolutely necessary.

Amongst the stack of mail waiting us upon our return from the RV trip was a letter from a delightful lady we had met in Japan. She was our daughter’s Japanese teacher in Japan, and after meeting her there, we maintained contact through letter writing - remember those; envelopes, stamps, and words on thin crinkly “air mail” paper? She said she was coming to Canada on a “study tour” of P.E.I.and she would love to see Alisha and us if we were available.

Alisha was unable to come down from Ottawa, but we decided to make a trip of it, find a nice place to stay, and perhaps look for some interesting things to do on the Island. Our Japanese friend had only a short window when she could meet us, so that left us plenty of time to explore.

Saturday did not bode well, with rain and so much fog that we drove across the bridge without even being able to see the water under us, but at least the fog lifted a bit, and we managed to meet up with Alisha’s teacher, and spent a pleasant afternoon with her, her husband and three other Japanese tourists here “studying” Anne of Green Gables and Prince Edward Island.

Sunday we were on our own to enjoy Prince Edward Island, and it actually dawned with blue sky and sunshine - we thought we were back in Nova Scotia.

The Dawson House

We were staying in a wonderful B & B within walking distance of downtown Charlottetown called The Dawson House. Wonderful old house, very friendly hosts, comfortable room, and delicious breakfast. We will definitely stay here again when in P.E.I.

It was “Farm Day” in Charlottetown, and the main street was turned into a pedestrian only street for Sunday, and filled with farm market booths. At one end there was a really interesting display of restored stationary engines and farm machinery. The men who had restored these old engines showed so much pride in their work as they fired up the old workhorses and demonstrated them for us.

Another nice local beer

I was pleased to find that I could continue my quest for sampling good local beer in P.E.I. We discovered a really great local brew pub called Gahan Brewery, right off the main street in Charlottetown. They not only served their own beer; brewed on site - I had one called “Island Red”, that was great - but the food was also excellent. I had a delicious pulled pork sandwich served with barbecue sauce made with their own beer, and some of the best French fries I’ve had.

On the way home we decided to take the ferry to Pictou, because there was a 70 mile yard sale throughout the area, and a P.E.I. Winery we could visit.

We had a good time in our neighboring province, and it managed to go a long way in restoring it’s damaged reputation as a “vacation location”. We look forward to crossing the famous bridge again.

RV Trip Summary

2011-09-30T09:26:00.000-07:00

Sharing the rest stops

It is difficult to keep “Blogging” when I am not travelling. It seems that there are always things that have to be done, and sitting down to write is not one of the “important” things.

I thought you might enjoy a brief summary of the RV trip now that it is over.

You have to be able to see

In general terms, we went from Nova Scotia to British Columbia, but we certainly did not take the most direct route – where is the fun in that? We started in Nova Scotia, but went on a gentle South Western path that took us through the middle of the United States. We went as far south as the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff Arizona before turning north again and heading up through California to get to Vancouver Island. Coming home we did take a more direct route, through western Canada, down to North Dakota and under the Great Lakes to Michigan, then back into Ontario and finally on home to the East Coast again.

When we got home, we went back over the maps and traced our route into the Road Atlas we used as a general guide and I then wrote little short daily notes about routes, stops and campgrounds. We have done the “Cross-country” trip twice before, but I could not tell you our exact route, so this time I tried to keep better notes. Using these notes and my journal, I can give you some interesting information about the trip.

Our "Rig" is only big on it's own.

We did approximately 18,000 km in total distance driven. I had good intentions to have an exact amount, as I zeroed both the A and B trip odometers, planning to use A for each tankful of fuel and keep B running for the entire trip. Somehow B got zeroed along the way, so I have had to simply add the distances recorded for each fill-up. This of course counts all mileage including local trips at each stop.

We were gone from June 29^th until August 27^th, for a total of 60 days.

We drove through seven provinces, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Ontario and Quebec. We visited twenty five states, including Maine, New Hampshire Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, California, Oregon, Washington, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan.

A Racing Tundra!

We crossed the Canada/US border four times at four different places, New Brunswick/Maine, Washington/British Columbia, Saskatchewan/North Dakota, and Michigan/Ontario. We had to turn in our oranges and tomatoes each time we entered the US, but Canada did not seem to mind anything we imported. Crossing the border this many times on one trip did present some questions. For example, I brought two bottles of wine and some nice local beers across when I entered Canada in British Columbia, and I wanted to keep these until I got home. I asked the border officials and they did not seem to mind. I kept the receipts for things I bought the first section of the trip and if questioned I could have shown the different items, but the border officials accepted my explanation and I had no problems.

We visited thirty three different campgrounds in total, spent two nights in Walmart parking lots and the rest parked in friends or family yards. The longest time spent in one place was at my sister's house on Vancouver Island where we spent six days. The longest campground stop was in Vancouver for five days visiting friends followed by four days in California waiting for new springs for the trailer. Most of these campgrounds were very nice thanks to our diligent “Trip Planner” who researched and reviewed prior to choosing. We had one really bad one, and perhaps two that were “not so good”. We belong to an RV campground service called Passport America that lists discounted campgrounds at 50% off, but we quickly discovered that most of these are in the list because they are well off the main routes, and the savings are eliminated when the extra fuel and time to find them are factored in. We found that in general, the KOA campgrounds are reliable and high quality, if somewhat more expensive. We reserved a spot at many campgrounds, but in general found that campgrounds were not full. The exception to this was in Oregon and Washington where we found everything packed full.

I am not going to give costs of the trip. Fuel was the major expense; the truck gets about 10 MPG towing the trailer, and unless you get a strong tail wind like we had in North Dakota nothing makes much difference. You could tow up mountains, or through cities without a big difference, and I was amazed at how reliable and dependable the truck was. We were surprised at the cost of some campgrounds almost approaching the price of a motel, but in general you pay about $40 - $50 per night. Most campgrounds now have Wi-Fi available throughout the sites, but the quality of the service is spotty. The biggest saving comes with the food. If you cook your own meals in the RV, and plan for lunches on the road in the RV, food is not expensive, but you have to resist the urge to try the wonderful restaurants written up in the tourist information packages.

So, if you are planning a trip across the country . . . . I know the way.

Sunny Skies

2011-08-20T17:43:00.000-07:00


Sunny Skies in the desert

I wrote a blog about the weather in Spain, because it was so different from the March weather back home in Nova Scotia, but I did not expect to be able to do the same thing on this trip. E-mails from home however, reveal that our home province is not having an exactly stellar summer.

By the time we get home we will have been on the road for almost sixty days, and we have literally not had one say “ruined” by rain. There has not been one day of solid rain. Most have been sunny - we have even looked on a cloudy day as a rarity.

Our first day of rain was in St. Louis, when we took Regis out for her birthday. The day driving was mostly sunny, but it clouded over late afternoon ,and when we were getting ready to walk downtown it started to sprinkle. It was enough to make me break out the umbrella, and although it was not needed on the walk down to the riverfront, it was pouring when we left the restaurant. As I said in the blog about this it was a pleasant warm rain and we enjoyed the walk back even with the rain. We had one other night with thunder storms overnight, but it was dry again when we got up in the morning.

The next part of the trip was through the dry part of the US, so we did not expect rain - “it’s a dry heat”. Through Texas, New Mexico, Nevada, and Arizona you do not expect to see much rain, and we enjoyed hot sunny days every day; got sort of used to it actually.

Through California is was all sunny days as expected, but when we headed north to Oregon and Washington we expected rain, but it remained nice. Even Seattle, known for it’s damp, foggy “vampire-friendly” weather gave us sunshine.

Sunny Skies in the Mountains

When we arrived in BC, we were told by our friends that they were happy to see us, because we had brought the sunshine with us. BC was having a terrible summer up to this point, but we were rewarded with mostly sunny days for our visit to Vancouver.

The wedding on Vancouver Island was our next bit of rain, but it did nothing but cool the day off a bit, and provide some water to clean the chairs before the guests sat for the service. The showers stopped as the wedding began, and the sun was shining when the vows were spoken - a good sign I hope.

While parked at my sisters, one of the trees that Pete left standing deposited a bunch of very sticky sap on the truck. It looked like water, but when I turned the wipers on not only did it not wipe off, it tore a little piece off one wiper blade. No problem, as we did not have to use the wipers, and I did not find a convenient Toyota Dealer until we parked across from one in Minot, North Dakota.

Even Sunny in BC

Yesterday it showered a little while we were eating lunch on Mackinac Island, but it had stopped in time for Regis and I to take a bike ride around the island. There are dark clouds overhead today driving down I75 towards Flint and the border crossing back into Canada but no rain yet.

I’m still waiting to see how that new windshield wiper works. I’m hoping that I have hooked the nice weather onto the back of the trailer, and I’m willing to give up a bit in gas mileage to tow the sunshine home with us.

As I sit in the KOA in London Ontario - It is raining, actually raining hard. It rained a bit on the way here, but let up when we arrived allowing us to get set up without getting wet, only starting to rain as we were making supper. Can't win them all I guess!

Mackinac

2011-08-19T18:02:00.000-07:00

Macinac Ferry

On our first trip across Canada we decided to be 'Patriotic” Canadians and do the entire trip in our own country. Big mistake; we hated the drive across the top of the Great Lakes. It seemed to be nothing but logging trucks, crummy hotels and road construction. No one argued when I suggested on the return trip that we duck down and come through the US. We found nicer hotels, more interesting scenery, and cheaper gas.

Now the worst place we stopped on the way out was Ignace in Ontario. The hotel was terrible and we are pretty sure that the case of head lice that we picked up was from there. When It appeared that the timing would put us in a place called St. Ignace in Michigan, we were not too keen, but as we pulled into the town it looked like a nice place so we stopped. We were only there overnight, and only had time to explore a bit of the town, but we were intrigued by the waterfront area full of competing ferrys wanting to take you to Mackinak Island. Each company had a gimmick; one was fastest, one was smoothest, one used Hydroplanes, one was jet boats. We picked up some information on the Island and it sounded like an interesting place to visit, and got put on a wish list.


Stately Macinac House

Years later we did the same trip this time in our “Motorhome from Hell”, this time coming across the US on the way out, and the way back. Mackinak was definitely on the list of places we wanted to stop.

This trip we had all our bicycles and the campground had a free shuttle that could transport our bikes to the ferry. We rode all over the island, and took the eight mile perimeter road all the way around.

This year we came back with Dad and Sharon, parking in the same KOA and taking the same convenient shuttle to the ferry. The island hasn't changed much, and this time Regis & I rented a Tandem bicycle (That's another blog).

No Cars or Trucks either

The island is very interesting in that there are almost no motorized vehicles allowed on it. They have a fire department with Trucks, and there are police cars, but they are only used in emergencies. The police patrol on foot or on bicycle. There are no other cars, trucks or even motor-scooters. I notice that they have allowed a few of the motorized chairs used by handicapped folk, but that is the only concession I can see. The many big fancy hotels and resorts pick up their guests in fancy horse drawn wagons, and all the materials and supplies delivered on the island are carried by large utility wagons drawn by big work horses. I saw one woman being chauffeured somewhere in a very fancy horse & buggy, but the main form of transportation is the bicycle. Every house has three or four bicycles parked out front, and hotels have huge bike racks instead of parking lots. There are hundreds of rental bikes from old fashioned looking ones to fancy multi-speed mountain bikes or the “Bicycle built for two”. The bikes owned by the locals are instantly differentiated from the rentals by the handle bar carriers on them. I discovered in China when I relied on a bike for my transport, that a front carrier is much better than a rear one, and the bigger the better. Many of the bicycles on Mackinac have large newspaper carrier sized boxes made of wire attached to the front handlebars, and they were often individualized with flags, or foam padding and bungee cords to protect and hold cargo. I also noticed many Island natives had adapted those nice “Yuppy” baby trailers to cargo trailers outfitted with big Tupperware bins to carry lots of “Stuff”. When a bicycle is your only way to transport things you take it seriously and make it work best for you.

The island itself is beautiful. It was once the vacation playland of the rich and fabulous of the area, and there remain many stately homes and “Summer” residences with big “Private” signs, but many of the old houses have been turned into beautiful Bed & Breakfasts or country inns. There are also numerous big resorts and large hotels, but they are all old styled and there were none of the big chains at all. There was one area of new development where beautiful new houses were being built, but these were being constructed so that once finished you would not realize they was not 200 years old.

The “downtown” is like a 200 year old town with the only traffic jam being three horse & wagons trying to navigate the same corner at once. There are many Fudge shops, something the island is famous for, a number of little pubs and taverns, and many restaurants in the hotels and inns. Of course there are the obligatory souvenir shops with T-Shirts and tacky stuff made in China, but there are also nice places selling local art & crafts or cute shops selling unique products. There was no McDonalds, no KFC, and no Walmart. There was a Starbucks, but it wasn't really a Starbucks, it just advertized they served “Starbucks” coffee with a big round 'Starbucks” sign, but actually had another name. I suspect this will not fit into the revised zoning bylaws after the next council meeting.

There is an airport somewhere on the island, but I never saw an airplane. The most common way to visit the Island is to take one of the ferries. The wild competition I saw the first trip by has gone, and I suspect one company has purchased everything, but it was a comfortable fast trip running every hour.

If you are ever in this area of Michigan, Mackinac is one place I recommend spending a day or two.

Tandem

2011-08-19T17:57:00.000-07:00

On a Bicycle Built For Two

Although not exactly on any sort of “Bucket list”, riding a tandem bicycles is something I have never done, and to be truthful, it wasn't really something I wanted to experience, but when after wandering Mackinac Island on foot for a while I was noticing all the tandem bicycles, and so I guess I must have been susceptible to suggestion, because when Regis started thinking aloud about how we should spend our time on the island, I suggested perhaps we try a tandem bicycle.

To step back a bit, you should know something about Mackinac Island. (Pronounced Mackanaw). This is our third trip to this area, and our second trip to the island. The last time we were here was with the children and we had our own bikes, and we enjoyed a ride around the entire island. The island is about a mile from shore in Lake Michigan, and is about 8 miles around by bicycle. Actually bicycle is the only practical way around the island, because there are no vehicles except fire engines on the island. No cars, no motorcycles, no trucks. They use horse & buggies, and bicycles. If you want to learn more about the Island, I do intend to write another blog about it. It is a spot that deserves a blog entry.

Anyway, after exploring the town and having lunch with Dad & Sharon we decided to go our separate ways. An interesting expression, since Regis & I actually ended up very much attached together.

There are many bike rental places all over the little seaside town where the ferry docks, and we scouted them all out. The prices seemed the same, but the quality of the bikes was not, so we chose a place that seemed to have newer bikes, and upon closer inspection we found they had not only traditional tandem bikes but also newer “multi-speed” models for only $3.00 more. We chose this type, and after getting everything adjusted up for us we were ready to set out around the island.

Now a “bicycle built for two” has to be ridden by two people. That means one person steers, but both have to pedal. To make it work properly you have to work together. It is not as easy as it sounds. Just getting started takes co-ordination, and with so many other inexperienced bike riders also trying to get the handle on riding bikes, the area around the bike rental shops is a bit crazy. You start, wobble back and forth across the road, trying not to hit the other wobbling bikes until you sort of get the hang of it.

Now for those of you who know Regis, you know that she likes to be in control, but she had a glass of wine for lunch, so allowed me to have the handlebars that actually turned the tire. It took a while before she actually gave up control however, and we had to stop at least once to readjust her “stationary” handlebars back to the right spot – I think she was trying to steer. I could feel her tensing up and leaning against my steering and trying to balance on her own. Once she relaxed and allowed me to steer, we did the eight miles around the island with no problem. We had a few stumbles as I shifted gears without her knowing, or she stopped peddling without telling me. but generally we worked it out. She had to keep peddling when I did, so this kept her from falling asleep like she did on the motorcycle one time, and we got a nice work out as a result.

I don't think I'll go out and buy a tandem bike just yet, but it was a fun experience.

Alternate Campsites

2011-08-17T16:31:00.001-07:00

I think this will work . . . .

Camping in an RV, you are quite “self sufficient”. We carry a supply of water in a tank that can be used for drinking washing and flushing, we have two batteries that provide power for lights, heat and some accessories, there is a propane stove and fridge, and the trailer has a small but serviceable washroom.

Given a choice I prefer a nice “full service” site in a “Regis Approved” campground, but occasionally we end up parked someplace else.

You have probably read about our adventures in Walmart parking lots, and this is always an option if we cannot find a spot in a campground. They do not charge to stop overnight in their lots, but it is not “free”, at least for us. Perhaps some folks pull in and just go to sleep, but it seems that Sharon and Regis usually have a “shopping list” of things we need, and that 24/7 shopping is just to hard to ignore. One night we even found a free WiFi signal coming from a restaurant.

I stopped at my sister’s house and turned a section of her lawn into a temporary campsite rather than at a campground, because I wanted to be close and able to spend time visiting her rather than driving back and forth. Here I was able to run a power cable to her outside plug, and a water hose to their garden connection, so it worked well. We did the same thing at Regis’ uncle’s House in Watrous Saskatchewan, using his driveway to park.

At Dad’s friend in Canmore, we simply parked on the street in front of his house. The neighborhood is mostly seasonal people, and he assured us that no one would mind. It was hard to get the trailer level because the street was on a hill, but he gave us access to water and power, so it was actually a comfortable quiet spot to spend the night.

In Edmonton Alberta, we stopped so Sharon could visit her nephew. We asked him about possible campgrounds, but having just moved to the area he did not have any ideas, but suggested that we could park on an unused roadway just down from him. Although without power or water it was convenient for her to spend an evening with her nephew, and there was a Sobeys right behind his house - almost felt like we were back in Nova Scotia.

So, you see, we can always find a place to park the RV for the night.

Favorites

2011-08-17T16:28:00.000-07:00


Golden Gate Bridge

When people discover that I have done quite a lot of traveling, one of the inevitable questions that I get asked is about what my “favorite” place was.

The first time I was asked this, I had to stop and think, because nothing really jumped out as an obvious answer. The longer I thought, the more I realized that I really did not have a “favorite” destination. Although I have visited many very different countries, I realized that I enjoyed most of them and was unable to pin the “favorite” designation on any of them.

Cruising

I can’t even say I have a “favorite” type of travel. I’m a big fan of cruising, because it is trouble free, relaxing, and gives you a taste of many different places. RVing is similar in the different places you can see, and I really enjoy driving, so do not mind the time behind the wheel. Traveling to China to work for nine weeks showed me how interesting it is to spend an extended time in one place, and how this allows you to really get an understanding of the local culture. The month long trip to Spain was a result of wanting to do the same thing in another location. When the cold damp Nova Scotia February weather finally gets to me, I am perfectly happy to spend a week at an all inclusive resort in the Carribbean sipping cold beer under a beach umbrella.

I think the secret is to travel without expectations, and with an open mind. I have had many people complain that they found Egypt very dirty, and although we visited when the “rag pickers” were protesting the slaughter of their “compost-eating” pigs by the government by dumping what they would normally recycle by feeding to the pig onto the streets, I just took this in stride and enjoyed other aspects of the country. The Egyptians didn’t seem bother with it, and their ignoring the garbage gave me a better understanding of how they could allow a national treasure like the pyramids to be so surrounded in litter. Other tourists found this deplorable, but I just accepted it as part of the Egyptian culture.

This attitude also allows me to overcome preconceived ideas of places. I had no interest in visiting New York city because I saw it just as a big dirty city with a high crime rate, but when it was the departure port for a cruise to Germany, I spent an enjoyable day exploring Manhattan and look forward to a return visit. Similarly, I have never had any interest in visiting Las Vegas, because I do no gamble, but my evening there on this trip has elevated the city to “return trip” list.

So, to answer your question . . . No I do not have a favorite place I have traveled to.

Adventure at Walmart

2011-08-16T18:08:00.000-07:00

Sorry no pictures of this blog

Parking at Walmart is never my first choice for campsites. The Walmarts are usually open 24 hours, so you never know who will be driving by. They are reasonably safe, for the same reason, they are always open, and there are always people around. There are also usually other RVers parked with you, so it is better than parking in the wilderness, or alone in a parking lot. I would however much rather pay for a site with full service and get power, water, sewer, Internet, and cable TV, but when you have no other choice, Walmart is always there as a last resort.

That is exactly what happened last night. The severe flooding in the area, had closed two of the three campgrounds, and the third was VERY full. We were tired and no one felt like driving further with no guarantee of a campground with available sites. Our only choice was Walmart. We pulled in and found a site among the other RV. We left the truck attached, as Regis had found a nice looking restaurant in the same parking lot right across from the Trailer, and that would mean a quicker start in the morning.

Everyone was tired enough that we all went to bed as soon as it was dark, and settled in for a good night sleep.

So you get extra pictures

We all (well all except Dad who didn't hear a thing) awoke with a start at 1:30 AM, to shouting:

“GET OUT OF THE CAR AND ON THE GROUND!”

“WHERE IS THE GUN? TELL US NOW!”

“YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT A GUN AND POINTING A GUN; NOW WHERE IS IT?”

Did I leave 'Law & Order' on the TV? . . . . No, wait a minute, we have no power, we're at Walmart. Whoa, this is real!

The noise seemed right outside the trailer, so we cautiously got up and peered out through the back window, trying not to open the blinds too much.

There were five police cars and about eight police officers with guns drawn surrounding a gold car with all four doors open. They had a guy on the ground on his stomach with his arms handcuffed behind him. This was taking place no more than four yards from the back corner of our RV.

The shouting and questioning continued for about 30 minutes with the “Perp” denying any knowledge of a gun, but the police officers seemed to think he did have one. It ended with them taking him away in a police car, because his continued insistence that there was no gun got abusive, and things got quiet again. Fine for them; probably went and took a coffee break, but it is not easy to just go back to sleep after such excitement so close to 'home'.

The wind was strong in North Dakota, and it got stronger as the night went on. The trailer shook like in a hurricane and the wind was blowing things around. A metal pop can rattled around the camper for about 15 minutes, and something banged up against it at one point. It was wild enough that you couldn't get back to sleep.

Regis got to thinking about the police, and said “I heard something bump the RV before the police came. I bet it was the bad guy hiding the gun in between our trailer and the Motorhome beside us.”

I tried to convince her that this scenario was unlikely but she insisted on going outside to check, and she made me check the back of the truck in the morning. I was sort of hoping to find a discarded Glock 9 or a stolen Police issue Colt, but no such luck.

The wind seemed to get louder and wilder as the night went on, and just as that stupid pop can rattled out of hearing range, the wind shifted and it rolled back. I found it in the morning, still rolling around – one of those “Power Drinks”, the one with the wings . . . . crushed it flat – it will roll no more.

Meanwhile, Dad and the dog, slept through it all, and when we explained about our mid-night adventure dad questioned whether we were making it all up. At least one of us got a good sleep – we made him drive in the morning.

Flooding . . . .

2011-08-16T17:53:00.000-07:00

Flooding in North Dakota

One of the real advantages of travelling is that once you have been to a place, you can relate better to news broadcasts involving places you have visited. I understand better the situation in China from being there, and I can relate to the economic situation in Europe and especially Spain because I spent time there. We went to Nashville just after the flooding last year and our trip showed first hand the devastation it caused. This spring I listened to news reports of flooding all through the west, but did not really understand it until I tried to find a campground in North Dakota.

We drove from Watrous Saskatchewan this morning, and along the way we could see the water in the sloughs and ponds along the way. The ducks and Canada Geese were enjoying themselves, but you could see that much of the farmland was still too wet to work. The closer we got to the US border the more water there was. However as we drove through North Dakota, the landscape changed from flat prairies to gently rolling farmland and we left the water behind.

This next part of the trip we have no friends to visit so we have almost a week of driving without significant stops. We decided to put some miles behind us on the first day, so we aimed for a place in North Dakota called Minot where we knew there were at least two campgrounds listed.

After six hours on the road everyone was ready for a rest, so we set the GPS for the closest of the campgrounds. We passed a billboard advertising it, went a few more miles down the road and followed the GPS onto a side road and into the campground. The Piles of sandbags out front of the industrial complex by the highway, and the piles of rubble at the campground entrance should have warned us, but we continued in, as we could see trailers there. One of the trailers was however boldly painted with a company logo advertising “Flood Damage Repair Experts”. You could see the damage everywhere. The river beside the campground was littered with the picnic tables that used to be neatly parked beside each site, and you could see water stains half way up the office building and many of the RVs remaining in the park. The office door was blocked with two cement blocks – I think they were closed.

We decided to try the KOA a few miles down the road. KOA are usually top class parks well managed and usually very nice. They are sometimes a bit more expensive, but usually worth the price. This park did not live up to the high standards set by KOA. It had an even bigger pile of rubble out front, and a string of red tape across the driveway. It looked like it was hit even harder than the other park. It seems that not only do they build RV parks close to the train tracks, flood plains are also a popular location.

Fortunately I saw another park behind a RV dealer and it was at the top of a hill, so we swung around and went back, only to find it with a big NO VACANCY sign. It was actually underlined on the sign, so they were obviously full. I'd say everyone from the flooded parks had moved there and there was NO room for us travelling vacationers. Good for their business – bad for us.

Fortunately, there was a Walmart just down the road and they will let RV park at the edges of their parking lots. We have had to use them one other time when we were unable to find a spot in Oregon, but there is no power or water and most of the Walmarts are 24 hour affairs, so not the quietest spots to stay. As we pulled in it was obvious that we were not alone in frustration in finding camping sites. There were more RV's in there than I have ever seen in a Walmart. The edges of the lot were three and four deep with Trailers, Motorhomes and camper vans. We found a spot and pulled in, leaving the truck attached to get an early start in the morning.

Don't tell my children we were camping at Walmart – they don't approve of the company . . . . . . .

More Old Cars

2011-08-14T14:48:00.000-07:00

Growing a Pontiac

For those who have been following my blog, you would have read about my difficult search for old American automobiles during the trip. Strangely, now that I am back in Canada, I have found all those old cars.

There are still lots of old cars out there, they are just hidden away from main roads where you don't notice them. The best way to find old cars is to ask someone who has lived in the area for a long time and knows everyone. I found a wonderful collection back home by visiting an old friend who took me to a neighbour who had twenty or thirty cars back behind old buildings and trees. While visiting Regis' uncle in Saskatchewan I asked him if he knew where any old cars were. He didn't really understand at first that I didn't want to see the nice beautiful restored cars, I wanted the old ones slowly sinking into the surrounding fields and vegetation, but after he thought for a moment, he suddenly smiled, “I know!” he said “I know a guy that has a whole row of old cars along his field.”

The first stop was his own old farm house where I remembered an old Pontiac sitting. It had been moved but was still on the farm, now sitting on four cement blocks because the frame was so rusty. He also had an old 57 Mercury one-ton in the barn. He tells me this truck was only available in Canada; built in Canada and only sold in Canada. It was in service constantly, hauling grain from the combine to the grain storage bins, and still works well.

Inside the Quonset

Next we drove across the road to his nephews farm, where after a few minutes of introductions I was sent down to a Quonset, where I was assured there were a few old vehicles. He wasn't kidding. There was an old Dodge in beautiful original condition, a 31 Oldsmobile with suicide doors, a 61 Impala convertible, two or three old pickups, various engines and parts, and hidden way in the back was a 1927 Nash, completely disassembled and labelled for rebuilding. When I mentioned it to Regis' uncle, he exclaimed “Hey, I used to own that car, bought it for $70.00, it ran like a top.” Coming out of the Quonset, I noticed some roof lines down a tree line behind the barn, and when I asked about what was there, His nephew had to think a minute before remembering that indeed there were a few old “wrecks” down there too. I have usually found that the people who, instead of trading in or recycling their old cars “put them out to pasture” tend to remember the few good old cars in the buildings, but the ones out back get forgotten, and they are amused when they discover that those are the ones I am really interested in.

Automobile Fence

Finally we drove to the farm where the “supposed” line of old cars was. As we swung into the road we were confronted by a massive 4 wheel drive tractor with triple tires on each corner with a 50' wide cultivator on the back. He stopped and was a bit hesitant at first when asked about his old cars, but instructed us to a parking lot that was itself full of old cars. After we chatted a bit and he realized that Regis' uncle and his father were old friends, he said it was Ok to take a few pictures in the parking lot, and when I came back to interrupt the ongoing talk of grain, tractors, combines and other “Farm” talk, I was invited back to the farm to look at the real row of cars. In fact, I was even told that I could take the dirt bike across the field to the trees hiding the cars.


Dodge Brothers Truck

This row of old cars was exactly what I look for. There was over a ¼ mile of cars from the 50, 60, and 70 all lined up bumper to bumper along a line of spruce trees. Most were Chevrolets, Pontiacs, and Oldsmobiles, from the 60, but there was an old Dodge Brothers truck, a Desoto, and even an old Honda Civic stuck on top of something a lot older. There was a definite “Brand Loyalty” here and I decided we were lucky to be allowed in the yard with the Ford truck we were driving. Many of them were decorated with scrap farm implements, bicycles, and other metal bits. Some of them were completely covered by vegetation taking over, and some were almost unidentifiable. I could have spent hours there taking pictures, but did not want to overstay my welcome, and Regis' uncle was waiting in the truck, so after walking the length of the row, I chose a few of the best to photograph.

I will have to come back again to take some more pictures. I bet he knows some more good “hidden Vehicles”

Trains

2011-08-12T16:20:00.000-07:00

Not a real train . . . . . an art studio

I have discovered an interesting connection between trains and RV parks while on this trip. We have very few trains left in Nova Scotia, and many of the old rail lines are now Trans Canada Trails, so trains are no longer part of our lives.

On the trip to Tennessee with Regis’ mom and uncle & aunt last year, her Aunt Monie asked us to try to find campgrounds away from trains, because on another trip, she had one sleepless night due to loud trains. We only had one night where a train was heard, but on this trip I learned to appreciate her concern with trains.

We have had a lot of campgrounds that were in close proximity to trains, and at least three that had trains running directly behind the trailer. Of course this fact is rarely advertised in the campground books and flyers, and the tracks are usually hidden by trees, so unless someone mentions it in online reviews, you don’t find out about they until you get settled and the train goes by.

The worse was the campground in Lake Louise. There was an emergency exit from the park close to our site, and because it was not a regular road, it did not have an elevated crossing or automated lights and barrier system, so every train had to blow it’s whistle to warn of it’s approach. And, there were trains all day and all night.

I have decided there is a connection between these trains and the RV parks. I got to wondering why there seemed to be so many trains so close to campgrounds, and I think I have a theory . . .


A Train Behind the Trees

Trains are loud, so no one really wants to live right next to train tracks, so houses and apartments are build with a buffer between the tracks and where people live. That then gives you some perfectly good land, often nicely positioned to services and attractions, that is not worth much. It is good for business and industry, but someone also figured out that it could also work for RV parks. After all, the people who use them are only there for a couple of nights, and then on to another park. If the park has “seasonal” (those folks who use their RV as a “camp” and leave it in one place all year), can take the sites as far away from the tracks as possible, leaving the ones bordering on the tracks for the transient campers.

To be honest, we have sort of gotten used to the sound of trains rumbling by in the middle of the night, and although the last two nights we were not close to tracks, we listened and were pleased to hear trains in the distance.

"Camp"ing

2011-08-08T15:28:00.000-07:00


The Comfort of "Camp"ing

While working in China, I shared an apartment with Gordon, another retired teacher from Alberta, and my Chinese adventure was made more enjoyable by the friendship we developed over the two months I was there. His experience in China made my adjustment easy, and my daily bike or foot explorations often discovered places or events that he then wanted to experience. He also was happy to discover that I was only too willing to experiment with cooking the interesting ingredients found in the markets, and volunteered to do all the cleanup.

Gordon married a Chinese girl he met during his time in the country, and since my return to Canada, brought her and her daughter back to a new life half way around the world. We had kept in regular contact through e-mail, but this trip provided an opportunity to see him again and meet his new family.

After e-mailing dates and times back and forth as our trip evolved, we discovered that it would probably work best if we visited him at his “camp” in BC rather than at home in Calgary, and he located a convenient campground close by, and sent me GPS coordinates for the “camp”.

My sister’s has a “chalet”, my family had a “cottage”, and in Cape Breton, our friends call their summer retreat a “bungalow”. Gordon made it very clear that his retreat in the BC mountains was a “camp”.

He and two friends have had this place for many years, and spend most of every summer there. It sits right on a large mountain lake, with a huge mountain across the lake and mountains receding into the distance. They lease the land from the municipality, and so none of the “camps” are really permanent, as they could be asked to leave at any time. Gordon’s “camp” started life as a construction trailer, and has evolved over the years with pieces being added as needed. It has a septic system, but water is pumped from the lake for washing so drinking water has to be carried in, and he was proud to explain that they have upgraded the solar powered black painted water tank on the roof to a second hand RV hot water heater.


Art, Regis, Gem & Gordon - "Camp"ing

The “camp” he explained was the last stop for things before they were declared completely worn out. All the furniture is cast-offs, and the kitchen cupboards came when a friend renovated their kitchen, fitting into the “camp” wherever they would fit, including one sideways over a Window. Above the deck an old awning from an old travel trailer provided shade, and pulled up onto the beach was a canoe that someone else no longer wanted.

When we arrived, we found everyone relaxing on the deck overlooking the lake in an eclectic mix of lawn chairs and old living room furniture. This really sums up the “camp”ing life. This is not a place to come and spend hours painting trim, cutting grass or tending gardens. It is a place to relax, drink a cold beer, and watch the sun go down behind the mountain, as the fire in the circle of rocks beside the lake sends smoke and the sweet smell of burning cedar into the darkening sky.

We only had an afternoon and evening at Gordon’s “camp”, but in that short time, I can see how he loves to spend his summers here.

SNOW???????

2011-08-08T15:25:00.000-07:00


Happy Hikers

My sister and her husband Pete share in an Alpine chalet in the Alpine Village on the top of Mount Washington on Vancouver Island. They rent it out to people from all over the world who come to BC for ski vacations, but it is rarely rented during the warmer months, so when we come to visit her in the summer it is usually available for our use. She has always told us about the amount of snow the village receives in the winter, but of course we only see it in the summer.

This year was an exceptional year for snow, we were told, and the chalet next door was heavily damaged by the weight of the snow, and there was even a patch of snow on the road leading into the chalet. I was not expecting the amount still in the woods however.

After the excitement of the wedding, and the cleanup afterwards, Linda had a nice hike planned the next day. There is a very nicely maintained provincial park just down the road from the village, and on another visit, we had explored some of the extensive trail system in the park, so we knew what to expect. . . . .

Not at all. . . We had no sooner gotten into the mountain forests, and we ran into snow - lots of snow. There were places where the trails were still under six to eight feet of snow, and some places there was so much snow that you had to be careful not to loose the trail completely. You had to look for ends of the boardwalks, or clear sections of the trails. Other hikers often had strayed off the established trails so you could not always depend on following the footprints.

The snow of course was old, often dirty, and rapidly melting in the lovely August summer heat; there was just so much deposited over the winter that it would be a while before all the ground was exposed.

The melting snow also made for a much more challenging hike. It was wet and slippery, and the run-off from the melting snow had often carved out large caves under the snow that threatened to collapse if walked over. You could see footprint shaped holes where other hikers had fallen through.


A Snow Cave

The unexpected snow made the hike more interesting and certainly more challenging. The nine km distance seemed longer with the care that had to be taken navigating over the snow. My hiking stick (a new piece of hickory picked up in Branson Missouri) proved to be an essential tool to keep from slipping and sliding off the deep piles of snow, and my knees were complaining by the end of the hike.

Six feet of snow still in August . . . One more interesting adventure on our trip.

Vancouver

2011-08-08T15:20:00.000-07:00

STOP, I saw Kibble on sale back there . . .

We were looking forward to arriving in Vancouver, because it meant we could spend some time visiting our friends, and we were looking forward to a break from the RV, as we were invited to stay with them at their apartment, overlooking Vancouver Harbour. The RV is a nice comfortable “home away from home”, but it is still small, so a chance for a real bed, a real bathroom, and a bit of extra room (their apartment is a “Vancouver” apartment), was a welcome treat.

We have visited Vancouver a number of times, and always enjoy this vibrant Canadian city, and always look forward to seeing what the city has to offer. One thing that Vancouver had lots of is some of the best “people watching” in the country. Spending time sitting in the many outdoor sidewalk cafes around Vancouver, and you definitely see evidence of Southern California’s eccentricity creeping north into BC.

The first night in Vancouver, we were walking back to the skytrain after a fabulous meal at the Alibi Room in Gastown, and in a group of people walking towards us was a young woman casually walking along completely topless. She was just walking down the street chatting with friends, but had decided not to wear any shirt. She wasn’t flaunting her toplessness, she was just out walking. I might have missed her except for my propensity for “people watching” - Regis completely missed her.

There are lots of homeless in Vancouver, as would be expected of a city with a warm relatively pleasant climate, but they certainly have adapted a different attitude towards the “homeless” here. A news story in the paper this morning tells of a fellow who has been banned from a local community. The people having “homes” there report that he doesn’t meet the minimum standards for “their ’homeless’”, who know how they are expected to act, and are therefor allowed to be “homeless” there. Huhhhhhhhhh????

There was the guy with the long white snake this morning, another guy all dressed on orange - shoes, socks, suit, everything. There was the woman completely covered with paint or tattoos, sitting in the coffee shop as if this was perfectly normal. There was always someone interesting to see whenever we went out to explore the city. Oh, and it wasn’t only the people - there were two dogs riding along with their owners on motorcycles.

We really enjoyed our time in Vancouver, and it’s interesting and eccentric people certainly adds to the city’s charm.

Half Way, But Almost Home

2011-07-30T17:22:00.000-07:00

Our cross-country RV adventure is at the half way point. We have arrived on Vancouver Island in the city of Courtenay, BC. This is the place that my sister Linda has decided to call home. Although it is very inconsiderate of her to live in a place that is as far away as she can get while still living in Canada, it does give us “East Coasters” a reason to visit this beautiful part of our country.


Home Away From Home

When we originally informed Linda that we would be coming out with Dad and Sharon in the RV, she did some research and reported back with a number of local RV Parks we could use during our stay here. I informed her that this was not what I had in mind, and I would prefer if we could pull into her yard somehow. I have been out to see her before and as I remembered the house, there was an old driveway to one side beside the fence that I thought might be large enough for the trailer. I sent her rough dimensions and she assigned her husband Pete to work on the logistics of my request.

It would certainly have worked to park in an RV Park. There are a couple not too far away, and we could still spend lots of time with her, but there is just something nice about visiting family and staying close to them that made me want to park in her yard. You have to find a way to hook up water, household “outside plugs” are rarely 30 amp, so we would not have the use of the Air Conditioner if it got hot, and there is certainly no place to hook up the sewer, but, parking in the yard of family just somehow feels like “home” more than another in a long list of RV Parks.

Linda got back to me after a couple of days, and said that Pete was working on a solution. There wasn't room on the old driveway because there was a tree in the way – I don't recall a tree, but it has been five years since I was there. He was going to look at some other options. He had to measure the back lane and consult with some of his neighbours. This sounded positive, and a follow-up contact a couple of days later informed us that Pete had indeed figured it all out. He had removed the tree out beside the driveway – Linda said she didn't really like that tree anyway, and this was an excuse to get rid of it, and he thought that although we would have to park with the trailer door away from the house, we would fit there. He also had negotiated with a neighbour who would allow us to park in his lane-way at the back of the house which would also fit the trailer. He is a “Trailer Towing” RVer as well, so this kind offer is not unexpected – RVers are like that.


Linda & Pete's Garden

When we arrived I examined the options and elected to try to fit the trailer into the old driveway beside the house. There was a tall fence on one side and a large tree out by the road I would have to manoeuvre around to get it in, but Pete had done a great job of clearing a spot – there was even fresh grass growing where the offending tree had once stood. After looking everything over I decided to pull the trailer in so the door was on the house side and I thought I should be able to then back the truck out over the lawn. I asked permission to try this approach, because Linda and Pete are proud of their yard and have put a lot of effort into making it look its best. Deep holes cut by spinning tires would not have been appreciated. Pete said that he felt the lawn was hard enough, and besides, Linda was not home from the airport yet so could not object.

Everything worked perfectly. The trailer fit, and it is nice and level, the slideout didn't hit the fence, and using both water hoses I could get to the outside tap on the other side of the house. Pete had to do some more trimming of the trees around the trailer as he had underestimated the height of the trailer, but again assured us it was something that needed to be done anyway.


Dutch Style BBQ

And I was right, it does almost feel like home. Linda arrived with her oldest son Chris from Alberta, and our youngest sister Margaret and her daughter had arrived earlier. Linda's daughter Tracey was also here, and with boyfriends, partners and grandchildren, we had a large family barbecue in their back yard surrounded by Linda's twinkling dragon fly lights and beautiful gardens. There was a total of 14 people enjoying Pete's barbecue skills. As the rest of the family packed into cars to drive up the mountain to the chalet to go to bed, I was happy to allow Pete to pour me another glass of his delicious homemade red wine, and watch the sun set and the various garden lights come on, knowing that I was already “home”.

Beer

2011-07-22T21:14:00.000-07:00

I have made it one of my “travel mandates”, to find and taste as many locally brewed beers as possible. This was especially fun while on the canal boat in England, and I found over 25 interesting local brews in our two weeks there. A positive side affect of sampling the local brews, is that when you ask for something “local”, you usually get a positive response from the servers, who seem to have a degree of pride in their local breweries, and are often very willing to give opinions on which local beers are best. One server in Bangor, Maine, was so interested in my opinion of the local ales, that after sampling one, he insisted on me trying the second at no charge.

The brews in America, do not have the variety or the flavor of the beers in England, but what can you expect from the land where “Bud Light” is usually the beer of choice. By ordering the local “craft” beers, you can get a brew with some taste and personality.

A partial list of the brews I have sampled on this trip so far follows. Most are from the later part of the trip, because I forgot to write the names down from the East Coast where I found some good ones, and had difficulty in the Central States finding “local” beer. A waitress in Ohio, had no idea what I meant when I asked for a “craft” beer.

Grand Canyon Amber Ale - Grand Canyon Brewing Co.

Ugly Pug Black Lagar - Rahr & Son’s Brewing, Fort Worth, Texas

Laguritas I P A - Laguritas Brewing Company, Petaluma, California

Moonlight ’Reality Czeck Pilsner’ - Santa Rosa, California

Downtown Brown - Lost Coast Brewery & Cafe, Eureka, California

I had a nice beer with my lunch during a stop in Death Valley, that the server said was “local”, but I’m not sure how they get enough water to make beer on the hottest driest spot in North America.

I see that I have an email from Alisha (daughter), asking when we will be arriving in Vancouver. She is visiting a friend there, who has worked in the brewing industry, and has a great local brew he wants me to try. That’s what happens when you develop a reputation for enjoying good local beer. I think I’ve said it before . . . . But. . . .life is tough!

Automobiles in America

2011-07-22T21:08:00.000-07:00


Nice old Hudson

I like cars. In fact I like anything mechanical. I enjoy motorcycles, trains, trucks, airplanes, and even farm machinery. When I travel, I am constantly on the lookout for interesting cars sharing the road with me. For my car-nut friends, here are some of the vehicles I have encountered so far.

We saw a nice variety of porsches while driving across Texas. Everything from a nice 356 to new boxers and other new models to a very rusty 914, all heading in the opposite direction; I’m assuming to a local Porsche gathering.

We passed Denny Hamlin’s Sprint Cup car on the way to Kentucky Speedway, and one of his show cars parked next to us at a rest stop.

Through New Mexico I saw four nice professional off-road racing buggies on their way to an event, and there was an NHRA drag race the weekend after we left San Francisco, so I saw a lot of dragsters on their way to the event.

On the bus in Las Vegas, we followed a nice red ferrari down the “Strip”.

Did you know that BMW’s little convertible two seated sports car is exactly the same length as the width of an 18 wheeler? I know this from coming across an accident on a long bridge where a little white BMW was neatly stuck to the front bumper of a big truck. It had just happened, and the driver who didn’t look badly hurt was still in the car. Imagine getting into a situation where you are being pushed down the road sideways by an 18 wheeler on your drivers door. The car fit so nicely on the front of the semi, that I doubt that either driver could see the other - very scary for both drivers!

While Driving through Oakland, California, a member of the famous (or infamous) Oakland chapter of the Hells Angles passed us on his Harley.


Peugeot Pickup?

Outside the nice little lunch spot I blogged about previously, was parked a Peugeot pickup truck. It was probably from the early sixties, and I suspect a home-made pickup, since I was not aware Peugeot even made a pickup, especially for export to the states.

I have read articles stating that the days of finding classic American automobiles sitting beside the road, in old barns, or in wrecking yards was long over. I can report that this is definitely not so, especially through the South-West. I suspect you will not find many two door 1957 Chevys waiting for you to restore, but I saw lots of interesting vehicles from the 50s, 60s & 70s sitting wanting loving restoration.


Being Towed to a better life

We pulled into a rest stop in Arizona, and a road beside the access ramp were were six pickups from the 50 all parked in a row, quietly rusting away, but mostly intact, and still on inflated tires. In Nevada, I saw three old sedans from the 50s sitting abandoned beside the road, looking like they had failed on a trip out old route 66, and have remained there ever since. We passed a junk yard off to one side of the road where I saw about four Corvairs sitting in a row, all looking restorable.

I would have loved to stop and add some of these “Sleeping Beauties” to my collection of photographs of old abandoned vehicles, but this is difficult when pulling a trailer. I had a difficult time just finding a picture for the blog posting, and was lucky to get the one old car you see here. If I was driving a car I would have been able to stop and explore some of these old cars. I guess it’s just another excuse to come back another time.

A Bit Rustic . . .

2011-07-21T21:06:00.000-07:00


A "Rustic Park"

Ok now, you already read my rant about the different campgrounds we have run into, but tonight's campground is worth a few words.

A year or so ago, we discovered Passport America, a discount RV service that gives you 50% off the regular rate on campgrounds. Of course not all campgrounds are on their list. It is mostly campgrounds a little off the beaten track, or newly opened ones wanting to increase their clientele. If you can find one on your route, it is definitely worth while.

When we left San Francisco, we had no set destination in mind, because we did not know how long it would take me to install the two new springs, and we had no clear idea how far we would get. Once we were on the road and the trailer seemed to be bouncing along just fine, we started figuring out where we could get, and where we might stop for the night. It looked like Redding California was a workable destination.

I decided to give the “Travel Planner” a break, and since dad was driving and Regis was navigating, I took the campground directories, and tried to find a campground for the night. The Passport America directory listed a campground just past Redding. It was called “Trail In” and it listed lots of sites, full service and was only a mile off the I-5 Interstate which we were following. I looked in Woodall's and found a number of other places, but nothing that was that much better than this one. Now as we drove by Redding we did see a place called “Durango Resort” with fountains, paved sites and lots of BIG expensive rigs, but we decided it was probably in the $75.00 range so we ignored it and kept going.


Yum, fresh blackberries

The instruction in the directory, agreed with the GPS, and when we were told to “Enter on the Right”, the sign and entry were actually on the right. The hand lettered signs directed us to the office, and we parked and Regis and I went it. Two young men sitting on the front deck said “hello” and tipped a beer to me as I walked in. Behind the counter was another young man with a pony-tail who said “You planning to stay with us tonight?”.

I told him we would like to stay, and he said it was $25.00. Regis pulled out her Passport America Card and I plunked a couple of locally brewed beer I found in the cooler on the counter, and he changed the price to $20.00 all in.

Normally when you enter a campground you get a map, code for the washrooms & laundry, location of the various amenities, and “Rules”. Here he said if you want a pull-through, just drive around the office, follow the road and pick a site you like the looks of. No rules, no instructions, no nothing. Regis reluctantly asked about WiFi Internet, not expecting much. He looked at her and replied “Oh, you want internet, no problem, I'll watch where you park and I'll point the router in your direction so you get a good signal. Enjoy your stay!”

Now it's no KOA, but we have 30 amp, Cable TV, and full hookup. Dad reports that the washrooms and showers are the “Shower-Shoes” variety, but not really that bad. It is a nice quiet campground right in the mountains, and just fine for the night. I even found a patch of California blackberries down the drive that were just ripening – just perfect to add to Sharon's fruit salad she was preparing for dessert.

Lunch in a Barn

2011-07-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

With a day to wait for new springs to get the trailer bouncing back down the road, we decided to take a trip up the coast through the Sonoma Valley, across and back down the Napa Valley. We decided to try to find a couple of wineries to visit for tasting, and find someplace to have a nice lunch.

The first thing we discovered was that the biggest problem in finding a winery to visit was not in finding one it was in choosing which one to visit. There are literally hundreds of wineries along the way. They are one after the other all along the route, and they all seem to have tasting rooms. Purely by chance, we picked two to stop at. They ended up being a good contrast, and gave us a good taste of the region.


Kendall Jackson Winery

The first was the Kendall Jackson Winery. This is a brand I know from home, and I can buy their wine in Canada. It is a very high end winery, and was situated on a huge estate with an amazing garden. There was a “Garden” tour starting just as we arrived, so I bought a glass of one of their reds, and went out into a beautiful “Not a cloud in the sky” California summer day to casually tour their gardens with a guide. It was very pleasant to stroll through the beautiful estate from garden to garden with the guide explaining about the various plants and garden designs while sipping on a glass of delicious Californian wine. It certainly made me forget all about having to fix the trailer tomorrow.

Our next stop was a smaller winery called Foppiano Vineyards. It was considerable smaller, and much more casual. In fact as I was tasting and purchasing a bottle of wine we discovered that the owner was there in the room and quite impressed that these folk from Nova Scotia were all the way out here tasting his wine. Again, the wine was excellent. I liked all the samples, but chose a “Petit Sarrah” which I discovered was a good choice since it is their speciality.

You know, this wine tasting is a fun activity – it might be worth another visit to California . . .

BarnDiva for Lunch

Then came the real treat of the day. Everyone was getting a bit hungry, so we stopped at a little town called Healdsburg, where we were told we would find a good choice of eating places. We drove into town and parked in a nice 3 hour limit (Free) parking spot right on the town square – gives you an indication of the size of the town. Sure enough, there were a number of interesting places to have lunch. I scouted on ahead to look around , and after seeing all that the streets on the square had to offer, I headed down a side street where I saw an interesting looking little pub. After rejecting the “Pub”, I noticed a large red building with umbrellas in front, and an old funky truck parked out front. It was called “Barndiva”, and proved to be a real “find”.

There was a menu posted out front, and I immediately liked the look of it. I thought this was a place Ryan (Our Son) would approve of. It boasted a “Sustainable” menu of local food, and the items on the menu all seemed very interesting. Well, they did to me . . . . dad grumbled about not seeing anything he would want. Sharon & Regis agreed, so poor dad was once again outvoted (We got him through Death Valley on a “majority” vote as well), and we went in.

This really was a top class restaurant. The food was amazing, the service was exemplary, and the atmosphere was very nice. In fact it was so good, you sort of forgot that it was a ethical eating establishment.

Two examples of the service were; our water glasses were refilled the entire time we were there, including after we finished and were waiting to leave; and when Regis got up to go to the washroom, the waitress came over and refolded her napkin – I've never seen that before. All the wait staff were attendant, but never pushy.


A delicious menu!

The food was the real treat. Everything was amazing! I ordered a salad of Heirloom beets, Apple, Endive, Avocado, Watercress, Walnut, and Warm Chevre. I asked the waitress if I could substitute Goat cheese for the Chevre cheese, explaining my difficulty with cows milk. She said she thought that it was a goats cheese anyway , but would check with the kitchen. She did however suggest that it was a “Light” meal and wondered if I'd like an appetizer. I said “No, I thought I'd be fine.” but she then mentioned the “Goat Cheese Croquettes with House-made Tomato jam and Lavender Honey” OMG how did she know that was my second choice? I ordered it to share with everyone.

The goat cheese croquettes were delicious little deep fried balls of goat cheese mixed with Tomato jam and lightly coated in a crumb crust sitting in lavender honey. I'm sorry Linda Saunders, but I have to steal your expression – it was “To Die For!”.

My main course was an amazing mixture of roasted red and white beets mixed with apple, walnuts, avocado, and orange, with just enough “greens” to call it a salad. I do not know what the dressing was, and I don't care, because what ever it was it worked to perfection. I was pleased to note that the chef decided not to chance the possibility of cows milk in the cheese, and instead gave me two more of the Goat cheese croquettes – yum!


Oops, forgot the picture . . . .

Everyone's meal was equally delicious. Regis and Sharon had the Crab Club sandwiches, and Dad had the Quiche. By the time he started his meal, even he was raving about the taste. I have included a photo of the menu so you can see the other amazing choices. Sorry Alisha, the food was so good all I got for a photo was empty plates!

We even decided to have dessert, since there was a fabulous sounding strawberry shortcake, and the waitress had the cook make me a special “milk free” sorbet to go with the French Press coffee.

This really was an amazing find and a wonderful addition to an interesting day in California. In fact we took so long enjoying the delicious lunch, we had very little time to tour the rest of the Napa valley.

Spring Wine (Or Spring Break)

2011-07-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

Lovely Scenery - Terrible Roads!

For those who are not RVers, the trailers and Rvs I am writing about are basically houses built on a steel truck frame. Some of the real classic trailers like the Airstream are built with an aluminium, frame, and some like the Boler we had are a nice fibreglass shell mounted on a steel frame. The Boler was an amazing trailer, light, strong and well designed, but it looked like two fibreglass bathtubs pop riveted together with some windows and a door cut into the sides. Modern RVer, insist on oak cupboards, flat screen TVs, arm chairs, and microwaves. In other words they want a “Home away from Home”, and they want it to look and feel like home. The result is a big square wooden structure like a house attached to a truck frame. But of course to tow it behind even a big truck it has to be light, the result is a compromise, and it results in shifting, bending, and breaking. Nothing ever broke on the Boler in years of service, but so far , we've bent a wheel, the back venetian blind has fallen down twice, one light fixture fell off, and two cupboard door handles have fallen off. Oh, yea, two of the springs that keep all this “homeyness” rolling down the road have broken.

Looking back, I suspect that the loud bang we heard as Regis was coming down the twisty narrow mountain roads in Yosemite National Park was one of the springs finally giving up and snapping, but I didn't notice it then. The trailer was making a lot of noise, but it does on bumpy roads anyway, so we didn't worry about it. However in the morning as I was checking everything over prior to leaving San Francisco to drive up the coast, I noticed that one spring was broken in half, with just one end holding the axle in place. We were not going far with that. We had a spare, but dad must have cleaned that out when getting ready for the trip. We went to the local RV shop, but although he could get the part, he could not do the work today. I elected to pick up the part and do it myself.

I got everything apart, and in the process discovered that a spring on the other side was also broken but not so bad. Fortunately I had bought two springs just in case. When I went to put the nice shiny new spring into place, it would not fit. A measurement revealed I was sold 26” springs and needed 23” ones. A phone call informed me that 23” ones were not in stock and would have to be ordered – a two day wait. We reregistered at the campground, put things back together (as good as the stripped threads, and bent brackets would allow), and went back to the site.

So with two more days in San Francisco, we have decided to take the rest of the day to just relax here. I worked on a walking stick, Regis tried to keep up on her reading for all her book clubs back home, dad took a nap, and Sharon found some temporary “Grandkids” Next door to make a fuss over (Sorry Jasmine, Nicki, Alex and Drew). Tomorrow we will leave the trailer here and go up the coast in the truck and visit some of the California Napa valley wineries. Life is tough!

Between a Rock & a Hard Place

2011-07-18T08:03:00.000-07:00

Note trees & big rock . . . . .

When traveling with an RV, you need to find a place to park every night. With a 28 foot trailer, you need plenty of room to maneuver, so a site that you can simply pull into (a “pull-through”) is easiest. The compromise with these however is that they tend to be open sites with no shade. In 30 - 40 degree heat, a bit of shade is appreciated, but although I’m getting better a backing the trailer into tight spots, we usually ask for the easier pull-through sites.

After driving through Death Valley, we started looking for a campsite. We were headed towards Yosemite National Park, and although there were lots of RVs and big trailers on the roads with us, the trend seemed to be towards smaller unserviced sites for tents or small trailers. There were lots of sites in Yosemite, and the various state parks, and forests, but after a long hot drive through Death Valley, we wanted water, electricity, and a hot shower. Regis found a place called “Pine Cliff Resort”, that had over 300 sites, and plenty had services, so we headed there.

The first indication of trouble was when we couldn’t see the sign for the park. After going by, and taking a scenic tour to the nearby town, we were pointed back where we came from. This time we saw a little sign peeking out of the weeds on the left side of the road - the instructions in the book said “enter on right” - no wonder we didn't see it. At least we had found the park.

While waiting for Dad & Sharon to register, Jasper and I observed that this park was going to have plenty of shade, built into the side of the mountain, and full of huge tall pine trees.

Dad come back with rather sketchy instruction to our site. “Go around that big rock, either side is OK, between those trees, and back in there. Just getting there was interesting, having to judge where to turn the truck to keep the trailer from clipping the trees and huge rocks. When we got there the site looked pretty tight, and there was not much room to maneuver. The fellow parked behind the site, stood up from his table and came over, "You gonna try to put that trailer in there? My Buddy took eight tries to get in there and his was smaller than yours. The guy across the road chimed in "I'll move my truck; you'll need all the room you can get!"

With Dad, Regis and Sharon guiding me, and with a few suggestions from the neighbors, I started backing in. There was a large pine tree on either side of the entrance to the site, and a large rock on one side. There was a concrete pad on the other side, and the power and water stuck up beside the rock. I almost got it in, but got too close to the tree with the truck. Even with tucking the mirror in, it was not going to work. I pulled out and tried again, no, still too close to the tree. I got out and looked everything over. I pulled out and tried to start further up the road, pulling almost into the site across the road - good thing he moved his truck. This time I got the trailer in, but we realized that it had to be over so the tires were almost touching the concrete pad in order for the slideout to come out without hitting the power and water. Another try and I got it in pretty well - Check level? No, . . . got to pull forward to block one side. This time everything looked good, and both neighbors congratulated us for getting it in. I felt good since it took his "buddy" eight tries.

In the morning we had to get back out. Dad had gone for a walk to scope out the best way to exit the night before with Jasper the RV Dog, and they thought they had it cased.

Dad pulled out of the site fine. Up the road, and around the Fish cleaning house (Yup - they had a fish cleaning house), and out between two trees. The trees were close, so we asked the fellow across the road to move his truck. He said "No problem, but you should know that the last guy who tried to come out this way got himself wedged in tight." We got out and it was pretty close, but we were committed by now. Dad inched the trailer forward, but there was no way it would fit. The awning was going to catch on the tree. He had to back up and try again. The fellow on the other side came out of his trailer and added "Watch the slope by the tree on the left - if you come too close to that one, it will tip your trailer into the other tree. Dad backed it up again, moving a bit to the left but not so much to tip the trailer. He inched it forward and I guided him, the awning just touched, chipping the bark, but not anything serious. We had made it out.

Dad suggested that it looked quite a bit wider last night.

I think we will look for a pull-through tomorrow.

Las Vegas in 90 Minutes

2011-07-17T21:21:00.000-07:00

Las Vegas

We are visiting lots of places on this trip, but ultimately our goal, and purpose is to visit my sister in British Columbia and attend her son’s wedding. As a result we are driving through many places that could be vacation destination on their own. Las Vegas, Nevada is an example, we arrived at about 2:00 pm, but planned to leave for Death Valley in the morning. We had to see Las Vegas in one evening.

The campground staff recommended, we get a 24 hour ticket for the “Deuce”, a double decker bus that we could use all evening and could hop off and on whenever we wanted. While waiting for the bus, we struck up a conversation with another visitor who had already been using the bus, and she suggested some good places to visit. She said that most of the big casinos allowed anyone to just wander the premises. Most of them have some big attraction to lure prospective gamblers in, and they are usually free.


Tourists

We discovered that the campground really was, as advertised, “within walking distance” of the famous “Las Vegas Strip”, and in fact it was close to some of the biggest casinos. We were just a couple of blocks from Caesar’s Palace, the Ballagio Casino, as well as two or three other well known casinos The campground itself is attached to the Circus Circus Casino, which is itself a huge one.

We hopped off the bus at Caesar’s Palace, and were presented with Las Vegas in all her excessive, opulent, glory. You really just had to pause a moment at take it all in. These casinos are absolutely huge. You can wander around them for hours. They have entire shopping malls under their roofs, and you have at least ten choices of eatery, everything from VERY high end restaurants, to fast food chains. You can get your hair cut, your nails done, your entire body massaged, and pretty much anything else you might want. Yes, I really think you could get “anything” without leaving the casino complex. The reminded me of a cruise ship only on a much bigger scale with much more emphasis on the casino aspect.

Las Vegas Lake?

We wandered through Caesar’s Palace, the Bellagio, and Circus Circus, and I think this gave us a pretty good idea of Las Vegas. Circus Circus had a carnival, circus theme, complete with a huge indoor amusement park with roller coaster, flume ride and kiddie merry-go-round, a circus big top, and all the expected “carny” games and booths. Regis, Sharon, and I went here after dark, and they said they were glad I was there to lead them back to the RV, because if they were alone they would have still been wearily wandering around this morning trying to find their way home.

I know that given time to really explore Las Vegas, you would discover that it is more than just huge opulent casinos (or maybe not), and I’d like to come back, stay at one of the hotel/casino complexes and see more of “The City that never sleeps” but I think our little one evening visit gave us a pretty good slice of this city.

Jasper the RV Dog

2011-07-17T21:08:00.000-07:00


Jasper the RV Dog

There are actually five of us on this trip. Dad’s little nine pound Rottweiler, Jasper (he is actually a Shih-Tzu) is along with us, and very much a part of the company.

We have taken our cat across the country with us, but she just stayed in the RV. A dog is a lot more work. He has to be walked, and given a chance to do his social networking duties - peeing on things to announce he was there.

Jasper did not start out as a good traveler. He wants to go, but when he gets in the truck, he will not settle down, panting, and pacing. He wants to sit on someone’s lap and that is not allowed; he does not understand why he cannot sit on a lap. We decided that we had to establish his boundaries, and decided to put him on the floor when he wouldn’t behave. He found a way around this, by simply deciding that the floor was his favorite spot - so much for punishment!

He actually settled in pretty good, and has developed a routine. He now goes into the back seat, and almost immediately settles down on the floor. He moves back and forth from side to side, but sometimes, is so quiet, that “where is the dog?” is a common expression. He can tuck himself under the back seat so we can’t even see him.

There are two things that Jasper does not like, lightning, and rumble strips. He gets so upset he does not know what to do. He wants up, he wants down, he wants . . . . he doesn’t know what he wants. Actually he just wants the lightning to stop! The rumble strips are another matter. He used to panic every time you drove over one. Of course with the trailer it is worse because eight tires instead of four are rumbling. On a narrow little road in Pennsylvania there were not only rumble strips on the side of the road, but also in the middle. You couldn’t avoid them in a fifty foot long vehicle. Poor Jasper was frantic. The trip has actually been good for helping him learn that the rotten rumble strips can’t hurt him, because after 17 days, he is getting used to them, and unless you are on them a long time he ignores them.

Jasper had a very traumatic experience last evening. The KOA RV park had a very nice “doggie playground”, and I was teasing Dad and Sharon, that if they were good doggie parents, they would take him over there to play. Sharon finally agreed, and I went with them. There were two big ugly white dogs there already, but as soon as we opened the gate their owners assured us their dogs was “OK”. Sharon let Jasper off his leash, and he started exploring, ignoring the other dogs.

Not so with the other “OK” dogs, one charged at him, running him over in a cloud of dust, and chomped down on him. The owner immediately yelled “No, he is too small to play with!”, and came to separate them. I think they actually thought he was a nice moving “chew toy”. By then, the owners were upset, and as a result their dogs got upset, and the other one went after Jasper as he tried to get away. Fortunately he wasn’t hurt, but he definitely did not like being used as a “chew toy”. He did not like going to the “doggie playground” after that.

As I write this we are rolling down highway 95 towards Death Valley (Harolyn’s advice), and Jasper is happily sleeping under the back seat by Regis’ feet. He seems to be settling into this RV trip just fine.

Ain't It Grand

2011-07-15T16:21:00.000-07:00


The Grand Canyon

When we stared planning this trip, the one place that Regis wanted to see was the Grand Canyon, so it was set as our goal as we worked our way across the United States. It was as far south as we would go on this trip.

We had a terrible time getting information on the Grand Canyon. We did not know the best way to get there, we did not know what to expect when we got there, and we were not sure if we should camp close, or camp in a nearby city and drive to the canyon. We stopped at the Arizona welcome centre, and the extent of the help we got there was being handed various brochures. When we asked about routes to drive to the canyon we were told to go a particular way because she felt traffic on the route that followed the south rim would be like rush hour. "30 miles of 30 mph driving", she warned.

We elected to stay in Flagstaff, Arizona for two days and spend the one full day at the canyon with the truck. We ignored the Welcome Centre's advice and drove the "busy" south rim route. We were the only car on the road at times, and had no backups or congestion, and there was always lots of room to park at the scenic overlooks. This route takes you straight up to the canyon, and then snakes along the southern rim of the canyon, providing many spots to pull off to look out over the canyon and take pictures.

At one point a sign warned that there could be mountain lions for the next 15 miles. Then, about two miles further there was a picnic area with a family happily eating. Does this really make sense? Didn't these folks realize that in a "mountain lion" zone, the picnic area, was for the lions, and they were the picnic . . . . Don't these people read the signs?


The Colorado River

The Grand Canyon is one of those "Must See" attractions, and there are so many pictures of it, that you have a preconceived idea of what to expect. It is actually exactly what we expected, and was every bit as spectacular as we expected. There are so many different layers of rock and it is just so huge that every stop provided something different to see. At one point we saw a sheer cliff to the bottom, another we could see the rapids on the river below, and on one stop we saw California Condors gracefully soaring above the canyon. The canyon changes by the hour, and the views over the canyon are different in the morning and afternoon, and although we did not stay to watch the sun set over the canyon, we were able to see how the lengthening shadows made particular rock formations stand out and certain colours become dominant. I took my camera with nice fresh batteries, and lots of room on the memory card, and I took hundreds of photos, but it is very hard to capture the grandeur of the Grand Canyon.


At The Grand Canyon

We knew what to expect; I can only imagine what early explorers or pre-internet vacationers must have felt coming across this incredible landmark for the first time. It is aptly named, and really is "Grand". Put it on your "bucket list".

Tramway Flight

2011-07-15T16:06:00.000-07:00


The Tramway

Albuquerque is home to the worlds longest tramway. It is over two and a half miles long, and has one section that is over one and a quarter miles long between support towers. It climbs to the 10,378 foot Sandia Peak, where you can see over 11,000 square miles. We were in Albuquerque overnight, and had time to take in one attraction, so this sounded like a good choice.

We arrived at about 6:00, so I was a bit worried about the impending darkness spoiling our view, but this was not a problem. In fact, the sun was just setting as we came back down, and provided a spectacular sunset background to the decent.

For the "uninitiated", a tramway is a rectangular box with windows, holding about 30 people attached to a steal cable that is pulled up and down that cable by large steel wheels. The cable is supported by tall towers up the mountain. Because this tramway has to cross a large canyon, it has one extremely long unsupported cable run and this is why they call the tramway ride a "flight".


Beautiful Views from the Top

Our "pilot" for the flight was a very pleasant fellow, who also emptied the garbage cans (he also said he cleaned the washrooms when I commented on his varied jobs). As we ascended the mountain, he told us all about the Various geological features of the mountain as well as the engineering feats necessary to build the tramway. It took over 3000 helicopter flights to build one of the towers that support the tramway.

Unfortunately, due to extreme fire hazard, the mountain was completely closed, and we were warned to stay on the observation decks. The National Forest has many hiking trails that would have made for interesting adventures. One trail about two miles in length, would have taken us to a hiker's shelter with beautiful 360 degree views of the area. There was a restaurant at the top, where we could have eaten, but we just enjoyed the nice cool mountain temperatures for a while and then went back down.


Tourists at the Top.

We were told about about black bears, mountain goats, falcons, and even cougars, but even with everyone searching the rocks and trees passing below us, we saw nothing except a couple of scraggly squirrels stealing scraps from the garbage. I think this is just a corporate strategy to keep people occupied on the flight so they don't worry about the 1000 foot drop, and the tramway built in 1965.


Sunset on Sandia Peak

The flight back down the mountain, was against a beautiful setting sun, and proved even more entertaining than the ascent. One passenger started asking very detailed questions, and the pilot was completely up to the task, rattling off information about not only the Sandia Peak, but everything we could see. There were three extinct volcanoes, and we learned how the mountains formed, and how the valley below was silted in when the area was an inland sea. The sea still exists in the form of a huge underground aquifer that supplies the water necessary to support a city the size of Albuquerque.

Travel Planner

2011-07-15T15:54:00.000-07:00

When Regis & I retired our primary goal was to "Not Work", but following closely behind was a desire to travel. We had a taste of travel while working, and found we both really enjoyed it, but when working, we were limited it where and when we could travel.

Planning the trip - With wine!

Some people like to just leave home, and see where they end up, but although that can give some interesting adventures, it is as likely to end in disappointment or disaster. The secret to consistently positive travel experiences is planning. Some people use travel services such as bus tours where everything is preplanned and organized for you, or get a good travel agent who can use their experience to help plan a positive travel experience.

Although we have a great travel agent, who helps us get the best value for our travel budget, I have discovered the best travel planner in the world - Regis.

She even plans work for me.

Those who know her, probably already know her phenomenal ability to plan events. Just suggest going somewhere, and she will jump in with ideas and suggestions. If the suggestions become an actual vacation, she immediately goes into "Planner" mode, and the Internet slows up for the rest of you as she researches options.

We really have never had a bad travel experience - no wait a minute the RV horror across the country was a bit negative, but that can be blamed on me, as it was all mechanical problems with the our motorhome, and I'm in charge of those sort of issues.

No, if Regis is in charge of the planning, you can almost guarantee things will go well.

Good Planning - Happy Campers

An example of this is the RV parks we must stop in every afternoon. On this trip, we have had amazing experience in every RV park. Regis has criteria she looks for, including price, convenience, and clean washrooms. I think the only bad washroom was the one in St. Louis and it was me that researched that park. She looks in the Woodal's Campground Directory for possible parks, cross references it with our Passport America book, and then if we have an Internet connection, she researches it there, reading reviews (they must be above 7 out of 10) and visiting their websites.

I must admit, I am getting a bit spoiled with her amazing planning ability; I simply do not worry about traveling, knowing that my personal travel planner has everything organized. I know the trips will all work out. Thanks Regis!

Dinner with Black Bart

2011-07-13T21:49:00.000-07:00

Black Bart's -Arizona

There were not that many RV parks in Flagstaff, Arizona, and after our Travel Planner researched the available choices, we chose a place called "Black Barts". It wasn't perfect, with reviews of 7, 2, and 6, with a number of questionable areas, but we decided it was the best available.

We noted in the advertisements and in the reviews, that it had a steakhouse restaurant, but the places attached to campgrounds are not usually that good. The reviews on the steakhouse, like the campground were mixed, but after some discussion it was decided to give Black Bart at chance; it was convenient, and we have not had such good luck finding good "local" eateries.

We made a reservation (it was recommended - usually a good sign) for 6:00, and as the girls liked the looks of the attached "saloon", decided to go there to get their "fancy drinks with lots of ice" before dinner.


Checking out the Drink Menu

We arrived at about 5:30 MST, to an empty restaurant. Staff were just setting things up. This was not a good sign. That was when we discovered that Arizona does not follow daylight savings time, so although the state is in the "mountain" time zone, it was actually only 4:30 here. We were greeted nicely and told they would be ready in a few minutes, and the bartender in the saloon was just getting set up. They had no objections to us waiting there.

The girl behind the counter apologized for not being ready, even though it was our fault, and she chatted about local food, weather, and the Grand Canyon as she polished glasses, and filled ice bins. When she was ready (prior to official opening time) she gave advice on drinks, local "craft" beer, and wine. We spent a very pleasant 30 minutes talking to her over our drinks and got more useful information about the area from her than the grin at the Arizona Welcome centre.

In the actual restaurant (we changed our reservation), we were greeted by friendly hostesses and servers, singing as they prepared the tables. We were seated in front of the stage - did I mention there was entertainment? The menu was simple, but there was something there for everyone, and our server said it was no problem to leave the onions off my salad - usually a sign it is freshly made.


Four waiter/singers

As we waited for our meal, the wait staff went up to the stage one at a time and sang to piano accompaniment. The songs were mostly show tunes, and Sharon's singing along told us they were pretty good at this. It really was very entertaining; all the waiters and waitresses, took a turn, and they were all quite talented.


Talented Bartender

I asked one of the young girls waiting on us if singing was part of the job interview, or if they were hired based on ability as a waiter and then told "Oh, did we mention you have to sing every night?". She explained that singing was part of the interview, and many of the staff were from the fine arts programs at the local university.

We noticed that although all the wait staff took part in the entertainment, the bartender we had gotten to know earlier, did not, so we commented on this to our server. Five minutes later out she came, went up to the stage, and sang a song. She stopped on the way back to the saloon, and thanked us for asking for her.

Oh, by the way, our meals were excellent!

Cadillac Ranch

2011-07-12T14:00:00.001-07:00

Cadillacs in a Field

Years ago, I saw a piece in one of my automotive magazines about the Cadillac Ranch, where someone took a bunch of old Caddies and planted them in the ground. They were each planted slightly off perpendicular, with the front half under the ground, and the iconic Cadillac fins sticking up in the air. The cars were from the late fifties and early sixties, so they were from the hey-days of "big fins". The cars were complete, with tires, windows, and chrome, and were in original condition, as if someone just drove them into the ground.

Paint Job!

I'm not sure when I first read of this man-made automotive attraction, but it is probably 10 or more years ago. As we drove towards the campground in Amarillo Texas, I saw the Cadillacs sticking out of the ground off in a field to the left of the highway. The campground even had a RV planted front first with the rear wheels sticking up un the air.

On the way out for BBQ that evening we stopped so I could walk across the field and get some pictures of the Cadillac Ranch.

Classic Cadillac

The ranch really hasn't weathered the years and the human attention very well. The cars are still there, they still are planted in a neat row with the distinct Cadillac fins in the air. One car has nothing but the rear axle and trunk left, and there is no glass or trim left. The remaining tires are nothing but chunks of rubber hanging on the rims.

The biggest change in the paint. All the cars are completely covered with day-glow spray paint, vandalized and tagged by hundreds of visitors. As you walk towards the cars, your initial reaction is sadness That it had been "ruined", but as you get closer, you realize that rather than seeing it as vandalized, it has actually been changed into something new, different and interesting.

Cadillac Ranch

The cars are now completely covered in new paint from spray cans. This new paint it probably over half an inch thick in places. While I was there there were two groups of people painting their "tags" on each car and taking pictures of their work. As each person visits with their collection of spray cans, they paint over other tags, so the cars are constantly changing. It really has become a completely different attraction. Where before it was a static visual thing, it had changed into a constantly changing interactive piece of Automotive art.

A lesson learned; things change, keep an open mind and instead of getting upset at the change, embrace it and enjoy what it has become.

Rollin' cross Texas

2011-07-12T13:59:00.000-07:00


Texas Rest Stop

This morning we left Amirilla and are rolling across that square part on the top of Texas heading towards New Mexico.

The land here is completely flat. Regis was given instructions to something, and was told to "Turn at the bottom of the hill.". When she asked "Hill . . What hill?", she was pointed towards the highway overpass. There are no hills (well, except for the ones from Nova Scotia) here except for the man made ones from the highway. As you look out, you always see way more sky than land - no wonder they call it the land of "Big sky".

It is dry and brown as far as you can see. There are very few trees, and they are grouped around the houses or towns. You see patches of green occasionally, but it is always agricultural land and you can expect to see the long automated irrigation machines slowly inching across the fields spraying a fine mist of water. Nothing grows here without being watered.


Texas Big Sky

We are driving on Interstate I40. We have been on the same road for two days, and do not have switch routes until sometime tomorrow. There is a local road running parallel to the highway on either side, and the exits and access to the highway are simply short roads leading to the local roads. The traffic on the local roads are supposed to yield to the Interstate traffic exiting or entering the highway, but we discovered they do not always watch for the Interstate traffic. Although, we always kept to these "official" exits, it is obvious from the tire tracks across the yellow grass on the road edges, that the locals do not bother with them. If they need to exit or enter the highway they just drive across the grass. There are no ditches, fences or barriers, just a slight dip in places. Even towing the trailer we would have no trouble driving off the highway over the grass.

I thought that Texas was the land of oil, but we have seen more wind farms than oil wells. This is a perfect place for these giant windmills, as it seems that a steady strong hot wind blows constantly.

As you drive through areas where humans have attempted to tame this land, you see the occasional "rust fields". Unlike back home, where the salt in the air and the roads along with the moisture completely destroy machinery, here it rusts more slowly, so fields gather generations of derelict farm vehicles and machinery, slowly rusting away, sandblasted by the constant wind. The cars and trucks look perfect, just old and rusty.

As we drive through this section, there is par hed brown land as far as you can see. It is fenced, and there are even a few cattle, but you can see no houses or signs of human dwelling. Who owns all this land?

Driving Music

2011-07-11T14:32:00.000-07:00


Jasper Helping Blog

I can't drive quite as long and far as I used to be able to, but I still really enjoy driving. Put me behind the wheel and point me in the right direction and I will settle into a comfortable routine and put a lot of miles on the vehicle. I do however have to have appropriate "Driving" music.

Originally I used to have to play with the radio to find suitable radio stations, but CDs changed that and a case full of CDs could provide hours of good driving music. The IPod has however completely changed music in the car. I have 2300 songs on my IPod Shuffle sorted into almost 100 different playlists. I can pick a type of music for any occasion. My "Blues" playlist has over 1100 songs and has gotten all the way from Halifax to Ottawa without repeating.

This morning as we head towards Texas, I have my "County Shuffle" playing. I realize that I should build a "Texas Blues" playlist, which would also work for this section of road.

I have a good "Rock & Roll" playlist that got me across the eastern states, the country music has some acoustic country and bluegrass (thanks Fred!) for through the Ozarks and Kentucky, and driving through Memphis last year with my "5 star Blues coming from the speakers just seemed right! I have a playlist called "Best Singles" built around a book called "The 100 Best Singles Ever Written" given to me by a friend who also appreciates good music (Thanks Jim). I even have a few playlists on the IPod for regis to play when she drives (piano music or Tom Jones) - gives me a chance to catch a bit of "shut-eye".

Mystic Oars

I also have a playlist entitled simply "Driving Music". Every song is about driving, cars, trucks, and trains. Somehow I just figured train songs belonged here. There are five versions of "Mustang Sally", three of "Hot Rod Lincoln", and two of "Racing in the Streets". Every time I find a song that fits, I add it to this playlist. If I'm not sure what type of music is appropriate to the day's drive, this playlist works. There are 150 songs currently in this playlist. I know reading this has got you thinking about your favorite "driving" song, but if it's about driving, or cars, I'll bet I have it in the playlist. E-mail me your favorite songs for the list?

I have The Beach Boys all ready for the drive up the California coast.

Heat in the Heartland

2011-07-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

Dry & Hot in Texas

I don't know what the weather is like back home in Nova Scotia, but it is HOT and sunny down here in America's heartland.

We had rain one night, and it rained when we walked downtown in St. Louis, but the rest of the time it has been sunny and hot every day.

Today we are driving through Oklahoma on our way to Texas at 9:30 in the morning, there is not a cloud in the sky, and the thermometer in the truck is reading 32. There is a steady strong wind, but the wind is so hot if feels like it is blowing out of a heater.

All day yesterday the temperatures stayed at 40, and for a while it got as high as 43. Regis went into a service station while I was refueling, and she made a comment about the heat. "Yup," the attendant replied, "We're lucky today, it was supposed to go up to 115, but it only reached 110."

Yup, it is HOT!

She was was buying some ice-cream bars for everyone, and the attendant looked at the strawberry ice she was getting for me and he said, "You know, I've never tried them berry ones; I think today is a good day to do that."

The warmest it has been was when the thermometer in the truck reached 46, but that might have been just because a big black truck tends to soak up the sun, and the temperature dropped to 43 as we drove a while.

Texas Rest Stop - HOT!

I love the heat, and dad doesn't complain about it, but the girls do not like it so much, demanding fancy drinks with lots of ice at the end of the day's drive, and Jasper is tending to take it a bit slower.

I wonder how hot it will be in Texas, or New Mexico when we get there. You tend to put things in perspective, so although 30 degrees is "sweltering" back home, we are getting to the point that we see 30 as a "nice" day.

Branson, Missouri

2011-07-10T17:38:00.000-07:00


Camping in Branson

If you look for Branson, Missouri on a map, you will see that it is not really on the major routes across the country. Branson sits between two National Forests, about 100 km below Interstate 44 running East/West. It is a nice little town in the Ozark mountains, but no one would have much reason to drop off the Interstate and drive down to visit Branson. I don't actually know the History of Branson, but it looks to me that someone decided to do something to bring people to their town, and it looks like the strategy worked pretty well. Mom and Dad came here 15 years ago, and Dad wanted to come back this year. Last year on our trip to Nashville we almost made a side trip to Branson. Millions of people make this trip every year. We have been here two days, and could spend much longer.


5 & 10

Downtown Branson is a historical little town and has a fascinating store called “Dick's 5 & 10”. You can't get much for 5 or 10 cents any more, but the store is absolutely packed from floor to ceiling with thousands of interesting items. There are other shops and services but not enough to bring hundreds of cars a day to the town.

Branson's secret to success lies on Highway 76 leading out of town. There you will find, “3 Redneck Tenors”, “Acrobats of China”, “Baldknobbers”, “Buckets & Boards”, “The Duttons”, “Pierce Arrow”, “Shoji Tabuchi”, “Six”, or “Yakov Live”. These are just a few of almost 100 live shows playing in their own theatres almost every night, all year. Country music, Rock & Roll, Gospel, Comedy, Murder Mysteries, Dinner theatre, there is something for any taste.

Downtown Branson

To provide spaces for all the visitors to Branson, hundreds of hotels, motels, resorts, condos, have sprung up. There is everything from old fashioned roadside motels, to giant convention centres. One even advertised the "cleanest bathrooms in town." There are “theme” hotels, there are Golf Course Condos, there are Family motels and there are huge resorts trying to be everything to everyone. If like us, you prefer to bring your home with you, there are thousands of campsites scattered around the town, some like the one we choose are within walking distance of some of the shows.

Of course if you came, you will need to eat, so there are as many restaurants as there are theatres. You can get any style of food you prefer

If you get tired of music shows, someone thought of this, and there are other attractions. How about “Ride the Ducks”, “Branson Auto Museum”, “Castle of Choas”, “Ziplines”, “Branson Scenic Railway”, or “Titanic”. There are wineries, Factory Outlet centres, IMAX Theatres, and of course the natural beauty of the surrounding forests and lakes of the Ozark mountains.

Everywhere we go on this trip across the United States, we see signs of the dismal economy, and people are definitely suffering, but the town of Branson continues to do all they can to bring tourist dollars to their town.

Walking in the Rain

2011-07-09T17:38:00.000-07:00

July 7th was Regis' birthday, so we we arranged our day to arrive at a city where we could take her out to celebrate. St. Louis Missouri was a perfect distance away, getting us there early enough to relax and plan the evening.

We found an RV park right downtown (a very unusual thing). It was just a big asphalt parking lot, but in the RV with temperatures of 30 outside, we mostly stayed inside with the AC cooling us off after the days drive. The folk in the office were friendly and the washrooms and showers were the best we have seen. Best of all, the major attractions, including the St. Louis Arch were within walking distance. The pleasant lady behind the office counter suggested a route downtown, and it proved to be wonderful.

Just as we were about to leave it started to rain, but was only a light rain, and the asphalt was so hot the rain dried as fast as it came down. We had two umbrellas so decided the walk would be fine. When you spend so much time in the truck it is nice to find opportunities to walk.

The route to downtown St. Louis and the Mississippi River took us down Washington St. The area went through an area of the city that was originally industrial, with warehouses and factories, but the city has encouraged developers to restore these old buildings and convert them to loft apartments and condos, with restaurants and pubs in the street level shops; so much nicer than tearing the history down and building new structures. It made for a very pleasant walk, and although the light rain continued, we folded our umbrellas and allowed the rain to cool us off as it evaporated.

Coming out of the restaurant after a lovely dinner, the rain had increased to a serious downpour. We had intended to visit the St. Louis Arch, but the rain was decreasing visibility, so we elected to add this to the next days agenda.


St. Louis Arch

Dad & Sharon decided to take a cab back to the trailer, but Regis and I decided to walk. It was raining very hard, and the streets were flooded in places, but the temperature remained warm, so we had a very nice walk back. Even on warm days the Nova Scotia rain is cold, but this rain was completely different; you got damp, but not cold, so "walking in the Rain" was a pleasant experience.


The Mighty Mississippi

The next day dawned sunny and hot again, and we drove down to the arch to save time, because we had a fair drive to reach Branson. The Arch was definitely a "must see". You ride up in little "pod", and the four minute ride takes you to the top, 600 ft over St.Louis, where you get out and can look through windows out over the city and the Mississippi River.

Photo By Kris Hanke

As we were going to the Arch in the morning, I stopped to take a picture of Regis & Sharon with the Arch as a backdrop. A gentleman asked if we would like him to take the picture so we could all be in it. We agreed, and I handed him my camera, and after a couple of attempts, he was obviously not happy with my Pentax, so said he would take it with his Nikon because it had a special wide angle lens and could get the entire Arch in the shot. I said he looked like a professional, so I hoped he wasn't going to charge us for the picture. He said that in fact he was a professional photographer, but he would not charge us and would e-mail us the picture. Another example of "Kindness of Strangers" (You did read that Blog entry didn't you?). Please visit his website www.krishanke.com When I get the photo I will add it here, because I promised him proper photo credits on the Blog. (See Bill I learned my lesson . . . .)

The Chocolate Man

2011-07-07T13:53:00.000-07:00

The Chocolate Man
I have been trying to keep you informed of our trip and where we have been going, and I have occasionally tried to entertain when amusing things have happened. With this entry the teacher is coming out and I'm going to give you an education on the famous chocolate maker, Mr. Hershey.

Our route across the US took us right through Pennsylvania, and Dad wanted to spend some time in Amish country, so we also decided to go to Hershey and visit the Chocolate Attractions. Regis and I have been through Hershey on other trips, but have never stopped.

We found a campground that was conveniently located close to the Hershey attractions, got set up and went in to see what was there. We could have gone to the huge amusement park "Hershey Park", but I was the youngest of the Hill children (Dad tried to check me into campgrounds as a child to no avail), so we decided to skip the amusement park. Right across the road was "Chocolate World", and in there we went through a virtual tour of the Hershey factory, and booked at trolley ride through Hershey.

Regis & I toured the actual Valor chocolate factory in Spain, and the virtual tour was better than the real one, because the plant was not working when we went through, so we didn't see the actual process. Here in Hershey, the virtual tour showed all the steps clearly.

OK, here comes the educational content . . .

Did you know that Mr. Hershey went bankrupt four times before he became successful?

Did you know that he started out making caramels and only switched to chocolate when he discovered that the Europeans were buying his caramels and covering them with chocolate (probably from the factory we toured in Spain)?

Did you know that many of the streets in Hershey are named with chocolate themes?

Did you know that the street lamps in Hershey are shaped like Hershey Kisses?

Did you know that during the Great Depression, Mr. Hershey single handedly kept the city of Hershey going by sponsoring building projects? He built a huge high school, a sports arena, a hospital, and a large expansion to his factory.

Did you know that because he and his wife could not have children, he built and operated a orphanage for boys (because they were harder to place), and a private school for them that still operates? To this day, Each boy who graduates is given $100.00 to get him started in life. (when it started $100 was a big sum, so although the amount remains the same they have now have other programs that supplement it.) If they maintain a "C" or above they can get a college bursary.

We learned a lot about the man who created the Hershey empire. I hope you have now learned a bit as well from my blog.

Bridge Out!

2011-07-06T19:40:00.000-07:00

If you read the previous entry called "Off the Beaten Path", you know that we ran into (well not literally) a detour around a bridge that was absent. Yesterday we found another.

We were aiming for Columbus Ohio to visit some friends from our last cruise, Herbie & Rosalie. We had found a campground, but it was 30 min. Outside of Columbus. There was another closer, but the reviews were of the "worse campground ever!" variety, so we took the 30 min. Drive over the "fecal matter in the showers".

We knew about where we were going, and Regis had our route pretty well planned, but the GPSs were very confused. We arrived at an intersection with a little green picture of a trailer (usually indicating a campground), and an arrow pointing left. One GPS wanted us to go that way. Regis' route said we should have gone right, and the other GPS said to turn right. We have come to trust Regis' navigational skills, and the GPS that agreed with her had the updated maps, so we went right.

Three more turns through lovely rural Ohio countryside, but no signs for the campground.

Then the GPS wanted us to turn onto a road "Closed to all but local traffic". The GPS said the road to our "destination" was in 800 m, and the sign said the road was closed in 1000 yards. Ok, now how does the metric to imperial work? Was our next turn just before the construction or just after?

Oops I missed that sign!

We decided that the turn we needed was probably just this side of the construction, and started down the road - got to a barrier across the road before the road to the campground. No room to turn either.

I got out and walked up to see the construction. Yup, another bridge completely gone. There was the road we needed; just beyond the construction.

Back at the truck, I surveyed the surroundings. No room on road to turn 50 feet of truck & trailer, but the house beside us had a circular driveway. I took off my "gangster" sunglasses, and knocked at the door. After a few minutes, a lady came to the door, and I asked about the campground - sure enough, it was just a bit down the road we could see but couldn't reach. She did give me directions to get there however, and then I asked for permission to turn in her drive.


Autumn Lakes Campground

Her directions were good, and we got to the campground. The campground manager was glad to see us, for she had received my e-mail inquiries late and thought we probably went elsewhere. When I commented on the closed road, bridge out, and GPS confusion, guess what she said - "You can't rely on those stupid things in rural Ohio; here's how the locals get here.

July Fourth - Fireflies & Fireworks

2011-07-06T19:32:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Hershey Pennsylvania on the American holiday, July 4th, and after visiting some of the attractions in Hershey, we came back to the campground to relax and wait for the firework display in the evening. We were told that the best place to see the fireworks was downtown at Hershey Park, but that they were visible from the hill just at the edge of the campground.

We went up early, just as the sun was setting, and as it got darker we could tell from the brighter lights on the horizon where downtown Hershey was, and we settled down to wait.

As the evening deepened we were suddenly surrounded by a mini fireworks display; the fireflies came out. They were everywhere, on the grass, in the trees, and up in th

e darkening skies. I have seen fireflies before, but not in many years. Do these amazing insects occur in Nova Scotia or was it on one of my trips I experienced them previously? If it was Nova Scotia, what has happened to them?

Fireflies have an amazing impact of children. They do not seem to be able to stop chasing them, but of course they are not easy to catch. I'm sure it is built in defense system, but they seem to just stay lit long enough to be seen, but not long enough to be caught.

After they tired of chasing the elusive fireflies, the children played with glow sticks, and flashlights, and after a few false starts from neighborhood pyrotechnic experts, the sky over Hershey erupted in fireworks. We had a good view of them, and were presented with a good 30 minute show.

Hershey Highmeadow Campground

Regis and I can watch the local fireworks on Natal Day or Canada Day from the house, so we rarely miss them and have seen some impressive displays. These fireworks, probably sponsored by the Hershey company - his name seems to be on everything else, and has a reputation for supporting the community, were excellent. Other than the amazing fireworks in China, where they seem to set off incredible shows for almost any occasion, these were one of the best I have seen.

Sunday in Strasburg

2011-07-04T10:08:00.000-07:00


Amish Transportation

We have stopped in Pennsylvania in the middle of Amish country, close to a couple of “Cute” little towns called “Bird in Hand”, and “Intercourse”. Also in the area is a town called “Strasburg” Dad has been here before with mom, and wanted to go back to see some of the interesting things he remembered from visits over 15 years ago. Last night we went into Intercourse to find the Farm Market, and picked up some nice fresh vegetables sold by the Amish farmers in the area. They also sell farm fresh meat, baking, preserves, and crafts. I even managed to find Regis another pair of earrings and a necklace.

Old Construction Style

Today we decided to drive into Strasburg to see what was there. Driving on the roads around here is an adventure, because you must share them with the Amish horse & buggies. These are beautiful little vehicles and all look in perfect condition, with little brown horses trotting in front and families sitting in the wagon or buggies. Many are small covered “buggies” obviously intended just to transport families. Most of them drive on the very wide shoulders of the road, and move along at a good trot, so they are not too hard to work around. If they are larger utility or work wagons or have two horses they are larger than the shoulder of the road and care must be taken in passing.


Brick Sidewalks

I think I can make this.

Strasburg was the railway terminal for this part of Pennsylvania, and I suspect in its heyday it was probably a busy place. Not so today – Sunday in Strasburg was pretty dead. Most of the stores were closed and the streets were quiet. So, instead of shopping, or visiting tourist attractions, we just walked around and enjoyed seeing some of the town. The houses along Main St. are beautiful old American homes, and many are very old. We saw one being restored and post & beam construction and wide plank framing was visible. Most of the homes were very nicely decorated with a very interesting variety of front door wreaths – Regis got a few ideas for our front door and suggested I take pictures so I would be able to make one when we get home.


Sidewalk Variety


Stone Sidewalks

One interesting thing I noticed on our walk was that originally it was each homeowner's responsibility to build and maintain the sidewalk in front of their houses. As you walked down the street you went from concrete, to stone, to brick. There were some very interesting designs. I've included photos of a few.

We did manage to find a nice Antique shop that was open, and on our way back to the car we found a lovely restaurant called the Iron Horse Inn where we had a delicious lunch. All in all, finding Strasburg closed on a Sunday was a positive experience. We have gotten so used to having everything open on Sunday, but without the distraction of shopping and holiday “attractions” we had an opportunity to actually see the community itself. A very pleasant way to spend a Sunday.

Mystic Seaport

2011-07-03T13:18:00.000-07:00

Mystic Ships

Up to this point I've been writing mostly about our travels in the RV, but this post is about one of spots we visited.

Regis and I have been to Mystic Seaport in Connecticut twice, once on our honeymoon, and once with the children and Mom & Dad during another RV trip to Tennessee. Sharon had never seen this attraction, so we all decided to take another visit. Mystic Seaport is a very interesting, restored maritime village. The present town of Mystic is an active seaport even today, so in the days of sail it must have been a very busy spot.


Mystic Town Square

The actual Mystic Seaport, is a collection of historic buildings themed around a working, sailing port. It is right on the harbour, so there are a number of restored ships, including a large square rigged sailing freighter the "Joseph Conrad", a fishing schooner (Similar to the Bluenose or the Theresa E. Connor out of Lunenburg, NS), and a very well restored slave ship, Armistad. There are also a number of smaller restored boats throughout the town. The buildings have probably been moved from a number of locations, and gathered here as a reasonable representation of a typical seaport from the days of the sailing ships. There was a very interesting “Lifesaving” station with a lot of information about this topic, but I doubt a lifesaving station would be positioned in a nice sheltered harbour like Mystic. There was a sail making shop, a rope shop, a shop making hoops for sailing masts, and many other similar buildings arranged around a town square with churches, schools, stores and other expected shops. I stopped at an information booth to ask about a Post Office and the gentleman manning the booth was a bit taken back, surprised that there wasn't a post office. I suggested that often these “Historical” villages have small actual Post Offices so post cards can be mailed with “Mystic” as the postmark. He thought this was a good idea.

A Square Mast?

At one end of the village there is a working ship building yard with a boat elevator to lift boats from the harbour for repairs. There was a large Whaling Vessel the "Charles W. Morgan" up on the slip being restored. You could actually walk up and into the ship to see the work being done. Walking through this part of the village you could see many aspects of the restoration underway. In one large building a main mast was being shaped. I was surprised to see them working from a square piece of lumber – you sort of think they would just use a nice straight tree that starts out round . . . . You could see the timbers that had been removed from the ship to be replaced, and a portable mill was cutting large rough planks from a large tree. This part of the village was full of people who were actually working on restoring the ship, where the “Village” itself was staffed with people trying to “look like” the people who lived here a hundred years ago.


Cutting Planks for Shipbuilding

Hoisting the Sail

The village is nicely laid out and it would be easy to spend an entire day there if you spent time in each building. There were video presentations on lighthouses, and the whaling industry, and there are always special events and presentations on maritime topics. For example when we walked up the gangplank to the sailing freighter, they were unrolling one of the sails, and invited any visitors to become involved in “Hoisting” and positioning the sail. We let Dad do this activity since he has not been getting his exercise due to so much time in the truck. We paid $21.00 to visit the village and enjoyed our visit, but being from Nova Scotia and with half our party from Lunenburg where the famous schooner Bluenose was built, and it's replica the Bluenose II is currently being rebuilt, we didn't see much we didn't already know or had seen. We had a good visit to this interesting historical town.

After our visit to Mystic, we had lunch downtown, and were back on the road headed west to Pennsylvania.

The Kindness of Strangers

2011-07-02T17:31:00.000-07:00

Watch for Rocks!

Time to head out for another day on the road . . . . we were all ready to go and as we pulled down the hill and around the folks setting up in the picnic area we were greeted by a loud “HSSSSSSSSSS” coming from the trailer. Great, we had hit a rock on the edge of the road and it had bent the wheel, allowing the air to escape from the tire. When we had upgraded the axles on the trailer to heavier ones, we could only get four tires and wheels, so did not have a spare. We have never had a flat on the trailer so were not that worried, but as they say – there's a first time for anything!


Bent Wheel

While I disconnected the trailer again, and removed the tire and wheel, Regis went to the office to get advice about where to get it fixed. I was worried that it might not be repairable – the tire looked fine, but the wheel was badly dented. After a discussion with the campground owner, Regis found out that most RV shops were closed on Saturday (When did they think Rvs were on the road and needed service?), but the owner did find one shop that dealt with farm trailers and utility trailers that was open until 12:00. The owner also said he would go down to a lot where he had some wrecked and abandoned trailers and would look for a wheel and tire that might fit. He also said that he had tools and tire changing equipment and was willing to help me try to beat the old wheel back into shape if all else failed.

We decided to send Dad to get the wheel fixed while I stayed to get these blog posts updated. He went to the office to get directions, but the owner insisted on going with him to make sure he got there. Dad reports that with the twisting roads they had to travel on (See “Off the Beaten Path”), he probably would never have found the spot, and we might not have seen him back for a week.

In the mean time, other campers discovered we had a problem and dropped in to give advice and sympathy. Everyone was interested in what had happened and it provided another opportunity to meet some more friendly Rvers.


Beaver Valley Family Campground - a friendly spot!

We were able to locate another similar wheel that would fit the trailer, and a shop that could change the tire to the new wheel. We had everything fixed and and got on the road by 1:00 pm. We could never have managed this without the help of the kind friendly folks at Beaver Valley Family Campground. We got to know them a bit better and genuinely liked these friendly people. A big “Thank You” to all the staff at this great campground and the friendly guests their campground attracts. They turned a disaster into a positive experience. We will fondly remember their help and friendly attitude.

Off The Beaten Path

2011-07-02T16:01:00.000-07:00

We were late getting on the road for day three of our cross country adventure, so we did not have any clear idea of how far we would get, and did not have a campground in mind. On the last trip we found that the State Welcome Centres were usually a good source of information, and one was announced as we crossed the border into Pennsylvania. A study of the state campground directory gave us many options, but we were tired so chose a couple of close ones.

Pennsylvania Rural Road

The instructions all indicated they were close to route 611, so we headed in that direction. Route 611 turned out to be a rather minor state road – certainly not a “highway”. It was narrow and very twisty. In the first couple of miles we twisted back over and under the Interstate we came in on three times, and the road wound in and around many picturesque Pennsylvanian communities with beautiful country homes. The road was narrow enough that I asked everyone else to be on the look-out for the campgrounds so I could concentrate on keeping the trailer between the yellow rumble strips in the centre of the road and the stone walls or mountain sides on the other. The constant “No Passing” signs gave a clear indication of the condition of the road. I pulled over at one point to allow traffic to pass me, although the 35 MPH speed limit was not hard to maintain.


Campground Road

Just when I was starting to enjoy this scenic route the GPS announced I had to “Turn in 800 meters” onto “Sleepy Hollow Rd” or something similar, and the road narrowed. It was now “two lane blacktop” with no lines, no ditches and no extra room. I slowed and pulled over so the tree branches were brushing the trailer on the side when the pickup truck came towards me, and I did the same when a few other local cars wanted to share the road with me. I was a bit taken back however when the 18 wheeler tractor trailer suddenly appeared bearing down on me, but we both slowed and pushed onto the sides which allowed us to pass, A quick look in the mirror showed the road littered with leaves and small tree branches ripped from local vegetation as we passed.

The “Detour” was unexpected, but the “Bridge Out” sign showed it was necessary, and the road narrowed again, and we added another four minutes to our expected arrival time as calculated by the GPS. The two narrow bridges we crossed on the detour gave some indication why the other bridge was out, being rebuilt.

Beaver Valley Campground

Finally back on the “main road” we were asked to turn twice more onto even narrower roads. On one of the narrowest, a little one lane road with pavement crumbling away into the lush vegetation on either side, the sign announcing a “One Lane Bridge” was a shock. Did someone actually consider this a “two lane” road, and if it was, how narrow was the bridge going to be? Fortunately we made it across the bridge, and the road led to a much better road and on into a very pleasant campground, The Beaver Valley Family Campground, where we spent a relaxing night.

When the girl at the check in office asked how we got to the campground, and was told that our GPS got us here, she handed us a nice little printout showing us how to get easily back on the main roads, “Here, use this when you leave,” she announced with a smile, “No GPS can find the best way around rural Pennsylvania, you need local advice.”

Campground Contrasts

2011-07-02T15:51:00.000-07:00

We know where we are going, but we donot have any hard and fast plans about how we are getting there. OnThursday we arrived in Mystic Connecticut without any plans aboutwhere to stay. We had read some reviews about some of the localcampgrounds and were a bit concerned about what we would find. Quoteslike “Mudhole”, “Filthy”, “Worst place I've ever stayed!”and “We packed up and left after an hour !” made one a littleleery. Instead we decided to find a Tourist Information Centre andask there.

Aces High

The historic town of MysticConnecticut with its tourist attraction the “Mystic Seaport” wasa logical place to find information. We found the Information centreeasily and discovered that the first weekend in the summer is not thebest time to get “Information”. Many of the “Local Experts”behind the counters of the “Information Centres”, and nice youngstudents earning money for school next year. They might learnsomething about their communities by the end of summer, but now theyare pleasant and cheerful but pretty well useless. She didn't know ofany campgrounds except the flyers on the shelves, and she didindicate that she thought she had heard some good things about onecalled “Aces High”. The pictures looked good on the flyer, and“Heard some good things” was better than “Mudhole” or “Worstplace I've ever stayed.”, so we had her call for a reservation. Weshould have realized that “It's not necessary; there's lots ofspaces.” speaks volumes.

Aces High

The campground was easy to find,and was very nice looking as we drove in. There was a pond with abeautiful fountain, and we could see work being done on a newswimming pool. The place had lots of big rigs parked on big cleansites, and we could see lots of available sites.

We checked in and the attendantstarted adding up the charges, $50.00 basic fee, $10.00 for eachadditional person, $2.00 for the dog, and somehow $3.00 more wasadded for some services for a total of $75.00 ! Wow, the most we'veever paid to “Camp”. At least the Wi-Fi was free, but wediscovered you had to pay for the showers.

Once we got settled in wediscovered that it was a nice spot. The spaces were nice and big, andeverything was clean and well maintained. There was a walking patharound the pond, and the campers sitting out in front of their bigrigs were friendly as we walked around. It was very nice, but Wow;$75.00 a night!

Beaver Valley

The next day we did not leaveConnecticut until 2:00 PM so we did not know how far we could go inthe remaining hours of the day. We had to get past New York City, andtoday was the first day heading West rather than South. As it workedout, we made it into Pennsylvania, and the Welcome Centre provided abook with lots of campground choices. We set one, called BeaverValley Family Campground, into the GPS, and made our way there,pulling in in time to get set up before the sun went down.

This campground cost about $40.00,and we did have to pay for additional people, but the dog was free,and the showers were clean and free.

Beaver Valley

Both these campgrounds were niceclean places to set up the trailer, but they couldn't be moredifferent. Aces High had all big expensive class A motorhomes, andpeople who could obviously afford the $75.00 a night fee. BeaverValley was off the beaten track (Another Blog to come about that),and it served a completely different clientele. Here there werebigger trailers, but the little boy who stared at us pulling in andsaid to his mom “Wow, look at that HUGE trailer!” gave someindication. We were small at Aces High and HUGE at Beaver Valley. Thecampground was built into a wooded hillside and most of the siteswere smaller and tucked into the woods. We saw lots of tent trailers,and families camping in tents or older trailers and campers.

We haven't booked campsites inadvance, so we will be running into lots of different places. I'mhoping to find more places like Beaver Valley that provide good cleanstays at reasonable prices and hope to avoid the highly priced luxuryspots.

The RV Life!

2011-06-29T18:16:00.000-07:00

Off to BC (Photo by Bill Towndrow)

Now I know a lot of you have been following my Blog to hear about my adventures in “exotic” lands like China and Spain, and I hope to add a few more locations as time goes by. If that is the case you may want to stop reading. This section is about something completely different and probably not what would be considered “Exotic” I am off on a two month trip across the middle of America to California and then up to British Columbia and back across Canada. I will be travelling by RV; my 2008 Toyota Tundra 5.8 4 X 4, towing my father's 28 foot Fleetwood Fifth Wheel Trailer. Regis and I will be sharing this adventure with my Father and his wife Sharon.

My Dad is a seasoned “Rver”, having circumnavigated North America twice, once in a LeisureTravel Camper Van, and in a 28 foot “conventional” travel trailer. Regis & I have “camped” in a little Boler trailer (Remember seeing those little rounded fibreglass trailers), and we then went across the country with the children in a 28 foot self contained motor-home. Last year Regis and I took her mother and Aunt & Uncle on a five week trip to Nashville and Memphis in the same “Rig” we are now using. So you can see we all do know what we are doing . . . . .

I put the “Camping” in there in Italics, because camping “purists” do not consider Rving, camping, and I will go along with them. There is no setting canvas tents up in the rain, sleeping on the ground, or cooking on an open fire – all fun things when I was 18 to 30, but not so much now. No, we pull in, plug in the 30 amp power, hook up the water, and check to insure the cable TV comes in clear – oh yes, what was that WIFI passcode for the Internet?

My Truck - Dad's Trailer

For the uninitiated, the Fifth wheel is a basic improvement on the traditional travel trailer. Someone watched all the big rigs on the highway and realized that towing a house behind a car by attaching it to the bumper is not the best way to do it. The fifth wheel, bolts a sturdy steel socket directly above the rear wheels of a truck. You then back it up to a matching pin on the trailer, so the trailer is supported directly and pivots on the back wheels of the truck just like the “Big Rigs”. It makes for a much more secure and comfortable towing package. It tows easier, turns better and backs-up easier. A trailer of 28 feet means that you have a full kitchen with stove, microwave, full fridge, and four burner stove, a complete bathroom, a separate bedroom with queen size bed, a dining area and a living/sitting area with a couch and chairs – pretty much a “House” on wheels.

Bonsai Trees Next Door

The Pumpkin Patch RV Park

So, that is what we will be doing all summer. We left Lunenburg, Nova Scotia today at 6:00 am and I'm writing this sitting on a picnic table at the Pumpkin Patch RV Park in Bangor Maine. Today was a long day and we didn't get here until almost 4:00 PM. I wanted to make it into the United States today to take advantage of their cheaper fuel (More about that later). We will average around 400 – 600 km a day, thus making the trip two months.

I was pleased and take it as a compliment that so many people commented on looking forward to my blog. I hope you enjoy this part of it.

On The Town . . .

2011-03-30T08:16:00.000-07:00

The Costa Blanca area of Spain is renowned for its beaches and warm weather on Mediterranean Sea, so it has become a popular tourist destination for Europeans from the Northern climes. When we looked for an area of Spain to come for a month, we were trying to find a mix of the “tourist” destinations where the reasonable accommodations are available to us “Foolish Foreigners” willing to rent someone else's “Summer” house when they do not want to use it, and hopefully find some interesting Historical Spain.

We actually did pretty well. El Campello is not really very historically significant, but this apartment is in an older part of town and is surrounded by typical narrow streets and quite a few older style Spanish houses and buildings. It has a feel of more of a seaside town than a tourist resort. If you walk down the beach you quickly get into a much more modern area built up with large high-rises and modern style tourist homes & condos. Walking the other way, up into the town itself, you find some of the original old houses and buildings, surrounding the old town church and the original town square. The nice thing about El Campello is that the tram system allows you to visit other towns and communities in the area very easily. We rented a car to get to Grenada and Valencia, but were able to use the tram to visit most places.

All of the towns and cities in the area have modern shopping areas and huge apartment complexes, and the communities on the coast all suffer from the “Tourist” areas, but a bit of walking will usually allow you to find the old towns within the cities and villages in the area.

The first thing to look for in any town is the biggest and oldest looking church. The churches were usually the central part of a town and the community grew around the church. In Grenada, our hotel was on the same square as the big cathedral and this allowed us to easily explore the historical part of the city. We could easily walk through old alleys and side streets that obviously were never designed for modern traffic. They were used by cars, but when you heard a vehicle on the street, you had to walk single file, and watch out that the car's mirrors did not clip you. One evening in Grenada we tried to find a “recommended” tavern, and started climbing up the streets towards the Alhambra. Many of these were footpaths with steep steps and cobble-stone paving twisting up the hills. The deep-set doors and windows all showed how old this area of the town was, and we finally came out onto another square with another old church and three or four tavernas, but could not find the one we wanted.

Alicante has a similar area when you walk up to the old fort instead of taking the road up the back side. You almost feel that you are walking through someone's yard or using their private drive. The old houses are built right into the hill, and the tiny walkways up the hill are only wide enough for foot traffic or a scooter. Obviously a sign of urban planning prior to the invention of the car. As you made your way up, it was so steep, you would climb in front of a house, and then find yourself looking over the same house from behind and over it.

We took the tram to Altea, a town up the coast from El Campello, and discovered the same design there. Altea has a beautiful seacoast and the promenade along the water is wonderful, with beautiful views and places to sit and relax or bars and restaurants to take a break, but this area is definitely a tourist area, and we heard almost more English than Spanish. A quick look around however when you exit the tram and you can see the beautiful blue dome of the church up on the hill. I'm not sure why churches always seem to build on the “high-ground”; perhaps it is to give you a head start towards heaven, or building a bit further from hell. We had heard about the beautiful old town of Altea and the walk up the hill was certainly worth the effort. Again, you climb through narrow stone paved streets switch-backing up the steep hill. Often the streets became footpaths with steps to help you climb, another indicator of the pre-car age of them. On the way up there are lovely little shops selling beautiful local jewellery and artwork, and interspersed with interesting tavernas and restaurants. When you reach the top, it is again the church on the top of the hill, with the original town square surrounding it. Most of the buildings around are now shops and tavernas catering to the thirsty traveller who just climbed all those steps, but you can imagine the original necessary town businesses here in the past, the bakery, the butcher, the blacksmith or the pharmacy.

We have been able to find this old part of the original “Town” in most of the communities we have visited during our travels. It is always worth the climb.

Saving Time . .

2011-03-30T08:02:00.000-07:00

Saving some time in Altea . . .

Ok, I already wrote about “Living on Spanish Time”, but I realized yesterday exactly how well I had adjusted to the relaxed pace of life here is El Campello.

The owner of the apartment kindly offered to let us use their Post Box to get a package that was left in Grenada by accident, and since she was in El Campello yesterday, she offered to deliver the package to us. We had plans to go by tram to visit Altea, another pleasant little seaside town along the coast, so we said we would wait for her to come and then leave. So long as we arrived in Altea before they took “Siesta” we would be Ok. We had been warned by a Scottish couple we met that everything closed in Altea at 2:00. They highly recommended visiting the town, but were very disappointed with the number of shops that were closed when they got there. No problem, our schedule was flexible and we could go any time. We went out for a walk before breakfast so we would be here when she arrived with the package. However she was very early and rang the bell just as we were starting breakfast. We were happy to get the package and discussed plans to visit their village on Thursday with them.

We had the times all planned out to get to the train station in time to catch one train that would get us to the first stop with only a short wait for the second train, but when we arrived at the station, purchased tickets and sat on the platform to wait, we discovered that the time on the station clock was 10:50 not 9:50.

What was going on . . . . . .?

Did the time change here . . . . . . .?

When . . . . .?

How long had we been operating on the wrong time . . . . . .?

I changed my watch, and we caught the train, and made all the connections, arriving in Altea with no problem. As we usually do, we stopped in the local Tourist information booth to get a map of the town and to ask for advice of what to see. I noticed a local English newspaper that was free, so I picked it up. There on the front page was a notice - “Don't forget to set your clocks ahead on Sunday Morning!”

It was Tuesday; we had gone two days without noticing that the time had changed. Now it did answer the question of why the waiter seemed to be hurrying us out of the restaurant on Sunday evening. We had gone for dinner at 9:00 not 8:00 and he was ready to close up by 11:00. That also sheds some light on why the workers downstairs were working so late on Sunday night. Now on Monday, when we took the tram to Alicante, we never even noticed it. I didn't wear my watch, and we weren't even thinking of the time. We got up, ate, and took the tram to Alicante when we were ready, returning on the same flexible schedule. Nothing gave us any indication that we were operating one whole hour out of sync with the rest of the world.

I do not know if it is a good or bad thing when you are so much into Vacation/Retired time that you do not notice a time change for two days, but we seem to have survived it. I do not know how I am going to deal with the hectic schedule when we get home . . . . . . . .

Sunny Sunday

2011-03-28T09:52:00.000-07:00

El Campello, Spain is a tourist town. The normal population is 25,000, but in the summer it swells to 80,000. Being here in March, this is very evident. The building we are in has at least 8 apartments, and for most of the month there was only one other apartment occupied. On our daily walks down the beachfront we see huge waterfront apartment buildings with only one or two apartments opened. It seems that most of the buildings here are built with special windows that includes a solid metal shutter that can be pulled down; a very useful option when your house is only used part of the year. I suspect that is also the reason why I can choose between five different supermarkets – they are probably all busy in the summer months.

This part of Spain is a popular tourist destination for Europeans because it has a climate that is nice all year long. Even in the winter the temperatures get up to 15C, and it has an average temperature of 19C and usually gets 250 days of sunshine a year. To us, coming from Nova Scotia's winter with -10C and snow everywhere, it was a wonderful getaway, but for most of the “tourists” it is not time to come to Southern Spain yet. In the last couple of weeks we can see a few more apartments opening up, and a few more people on the beaches and promenade. Now the locals don't see it the same. We arrived on a Saturday, and the following day we walked down the promenade on a Sunday morning. It was sunny and warm (to us anyway), and there were many local people out for a walk with their dogs and families. They were dressed in winter coats – the big puffy kind - and had on gloves and hats. Their dogs all had on winter coats! To them it was a cold day.

Well the weather has improved a lot and the Sundays have gotten progressively better. Last weekend there were people on the beach in swimwear. People stared at us for wearing sandals the first couple of weeks, but there are more and more sandals showing up. This Sunday dawned bright, blue and calm, so it was lovely. I'd estimate it was probably 23 in the sun, and you could see the promenade come alive.

The restaurants and bars along the promenade are full; especially the patios facing the beach. On most days only about a third are open, and we walk by many watching the wait staff and cooks chatting without any customers at all. We wondered how they could stay in business. Sunny Sundays certainly help a lot.

People are out in force. It is Sunday, so most people are dressed in their best clothes. Suits, dresses, skirts, fur coats. Although it is a long walk, the norm is dress shoes for men and heels for women. You can tell the foreigners; they are the ones wearing sensible walking shoes or “heaven forbid” sandals. Also popular with the women are boots, everything from thigh-high ones to short ones, but many with very high heels. Comfort gets no precedence over style for the Sunday strolls here.

The promenade has a real family atmosphere on Sundays. There are children everywhere. Young families push babies in strollers or buggies. Families stop into their favourite restaurants, for lunch, often sitting with wine or Spanish coffee long after lunch is done. It is a perfect spot for this. There are no cars on the street, and the beach is right across the road. When the kids get tired of restaurant they are allowed to go out onto the promenade to ride their bikes, inline skate, ride scooters, or just to go play in the sand. We would often see groups of children playing in the sand with no apparent supervision, and suddenly one of them would run across to the restaurant or bar to a table full of parents. The parents could see them all the time while still enjoying time with their family and friends.

The family outings on the promenade often include the extended family as well. We often saw grandma being helped along arm in arm with someone while the baby carriage was pushed by someone else. The children circled on all sorts of wheeled contraptions, making up for grandma's slow pace by putting three times the distance on their wheels. The promenade is paved with coloured tiles in a zig-zag pattern, and I watched one little girl walk the length following the pattern. We passed one family group that had given up on the walk, and had camped out by one of the walkways down to the beach. There were about 20 of them. The adults were sitting on the wall separating the promenade from the beach or standing around; all talking at once – I thought I might learn some Spanish on this trip, but I can't distinguish one word from another because they all talk at once. The children were scattered around the beach, playing in the sand, or riding bikes on the road and sidewalk, and the teenagers were off to one side chatting and texting. Everyone seemed happy except one little girl sitting on the wall in bare feet crying about something.

I can only imagine what this place must be like on a Sunday in July or August.

Going to the Dogs

2011-03-26T09:06:00.000-07:00

Jasper would fit right right in, but I'm afraid that Mocha just would not at all.

Now most of you know that Jasper and Mocha are two dogs I know. Jasper is a very small dog and Mocha is on the large size. They love their dogs here in El Campello, but other than a very few “bigger” dogs, they are generally small in size. What they lack in size they make up for in pure numbers. On a nice sunny day here, the promenade down by the beach is covered in little dogs all out for a walk.

One Saturday I saw a little orangey, Pomeranian type dog being pushed along in a child's doll stroller by a little girl. He seemed perfectly happy this way. When the little girl went down onto the sand, her mother picked the dog out of the stroller and put him on the bottom shelf of a baby buggy and parked it with the little girl's brother and her dog beside the wall along the walkway. The dog just stayed there. Later he was put back in the stroller to continue their walk. Along the way he objected to something another dog did or said and he gave the other dog a good barking, but never left the stroller – stood up and gave him a good barking-to. I thought he perhaps was unable to walk, but the little girl at one point took him out, put him on the ground and put her doll in the stroller. He just started walking.

This morning we walked down the promenade to the bakery, and I saw a gentleman in one of the beach front cafes, having a coffee and a sweet while reading the paper. He had a little white dog sitting on his lap who seemed as interested in the news as he was.


Social Networking for Dogs

On most days, I have seen one older man walking three dogs. He moves pretty slow, and the trek down the promenade and back takes awhile, but the dogs are almost as old as he is and they also move slowly. He has a leash attached to one dog which he holds onto and then the second dog is attached to the first and the third is attached to the second. I don't know how the order is determined; if it is seniority, or behaviour, but it seems to work for them.

I am amazed at how good most of the dogs are. On a nice sunny day there are probably 50 dogs out for a walk, but you hardly hear a bark, and I have never heard a fight – well not amongst the dogs anyway. They quietly stroll up and down, stopping and socializing when the humans they have out for a walk stop to talk. Most are on leads, but the ones allowed to walk freely deserve the liberty. They walk along always keeping a close eye on where their masters are and I have never seen a dog who had to be called back from exploring.

There is definitely a positive economic side to the number of dogs. There are more veterinarian clinics than there are hospitals here in El Campello. I think there is a human hospital here in town, but I'm not sure where it is. I have however seen three Veterinarian offices. On the TV there are ads for “Pet Insurance”; I'm sure you can get this service back home. but I don't think it is yet big enough to purchase ads on National TV.

Now there is a down side to the number of dogs . . . . . you've got it, they all use the toilet outside or as my mother-in-law says “damn shitty-ass dogs”. You have to always keep one eye on the sidewalk as you walk, because there WILL be some little doggie turds on the sidewalk. You have to be sharp too because the dogs are little their traces are also small and can be hard to spot easily. The city provides disposal bins for dog waste, and I have seen more people picking up after their dogs than I have seen pretending that “Their dear little dog didn't do that!”, but it is just the sheer numbers. They keep the main areas pretty clean, and I suspect someone must come along and clean the promenade and the main street sidewalks, but watch out if you step off the sidewalks or take a back street.

Wipe your feet on the mat by the door please.

Internet Access?

2011-03-26T09:03:00.000-07:00

El Lobo Marino bar in El Campello

The apartment in El Campello does not have internet access. The owners did not promise that we would have internet, but said that it was available just across the street at the waterfront bar. When we contacted them and asked about this, they suggested that you could sometimes pick up the Wi-Fi from the bar out on the balcony. I was a bit concerned about being able to access the internet because we did not have a cell phone and had no way to contact anyone other than through e-mail. As well I was hoping to write a few blog entries if I could find time.

We tried the “Balcony” thing the day we arrived and although we were picking up four or five Wi-Fi signals, the one from the bar across the street was not one of them. We tried this off and on the whole time we were here and could never pick it up. I suspect that the bar owners have moved their router from when the apartment owners accessed it. It is now in the side of the bar facing the beach so the signal would have to go through the concrete building for me to get it, so I am not surprised I cannot pick it up.

Oh, well, that just means I have to actually go to the bar to use the Internet, and I'm not going to just go in and use their Wi-Fi; I'm going to order at least one beer. Someone suggested we just go out front and “Steal” their internet by sitting on the bench out front, but that just doesn't seem right to me. Of course anyone who knows me, knows that I am not adverse to forcing down a beer every so often if there is a good reason to do so.

I tried the Passatge Bar across the street first, and was able to get on with both the Mac and the IPad, and I checked my e-mail, and let everyone know that we were here and doing fine. However, the next time I went over, the Mac would not find the Wi-Fi and I couldn't get on. The IPad worked fine, but I was typing up my Blog entries in OpenOffice and pasting them into the blog, so I had to use the Mac. I tried a couple more times and couldn't figure out the issue, so I gave up.

Then walking down the beach I noticed that the bar on the corner also advertized Wi-Fi. When another attempt at the Passatge Bar did not work, I packed up and went down the street. This bar is called the “El Lobo Marino”, and it has become my Internet connection to the world. Like most of the bars along the El Campello waterfront, it has a small inside bar, but depends on a waterfront patio to provide room for most patrons. We usually have the inside to ourselves. The bar is decorated in a nautical theme, and reminds me of one of my favorite “pubs”, the Knot in Lunenburg Nova Scotia. It is decorated with pictures of ships, with rope wrapped pillars and framed “Nautical Knot”. I have never found anyone working in the bar that speaks a word of English, but we communicate well. I hold up two fingers and point to the draft beer spigot and two nice cold beer appear before me. If the server sees me first, she does the same and waits for an affirmation from me. The first time I went in, I had some problem figuring out the password for their Wi-Fi, and finally the server that evening simply motioned me over to the bar, and she pulled the Wi-Fi router out of the back room and handed it to me – problem solved!

One thing I do not understand, and have never been able to figure out is that the bar plays great English music all the time. I have heard 50's rock & roll, modern pop, country and one evening I went in and B. B. King was filling the room with his great blues. I tried to ask why the American music instead of Spanish music, and although the owner knew I was asking about the music, she couldn't understand, so after several attempts, she shrugged her shoulders and I simply gave her a thumbs up to show that I appreciated the music, and we left it unanswered.

Actually, I think the fact that I have to order a beer every time I post a blog probably keeps them coming on a regular basis.

Waterfront Walks

2011-03-23T09:19:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's because I'm from Nova Scotia and have always lived close to the water, but I find that I really enjoy being near the ocean. Strange that someone who never goes in the water deeper than my ankles would spend so much vacation time near the ocean.

The oceans, rivers and lakes have always been important to mankind. Water is essential to life itself, so civilization grew up around access to water. The oceans of the world have always been an important source of food. Transportation and commerce, especially in times past was much easier with access to the oceans, and many wars were decided by which power controlled the ocean, so many important cities have grown up in places that allow the ocean to be used and enjoyed by people.

Here in El Campello I am told they have 27 miles of coastline – the longest in the area, and much of it is beachfront. The El Campello beach (Carrerlamar) and the Muchavista beach around the cove both offer beautiful seafront Promenades that allow the public to stroll along the beach in comfort. There is a wide expanse of sand, a short wall and then an attractively paved walkway running the length of the beach. The El Campello beach allows only limited vehicle traffic on the road running along the beach, and most days it is used as an extended promenade for pedestrians. On the other side of the road are shops, restaurants, and bars with apartments over them. What is nice is that you can walk the length of the beach without anything interrupting the view. It makes for a very pleasant walk and we have gotten into the habit of taking this walk at least once a day. If ambitious, the Muchavista promenade allows a similarly beautiful but longer walk for over 3 km along the beach but without the benefit of so many restaurants and bars for “Pit Stops” along the way.

As I walk this Promenade I think of other similar waterfront walks I have encountered in my travels. In Brazil, the town of Santos had over 5 km of beautiful walkways along the beach. In Campeche, Mexico they call their beachfront promenade the “Malecon” and Cozumel, Mexico has a similar area to walk along the waterfront. My Home town of Halifax has a beautiful waterfront boardwalk along much of it's waterfront, and during my cruising vacations when other passengers discover I am from Halifax they comment about how much they enjoy this easy access to the Halifax waterfront. In Hamburg, Germany the city was designed with a beautiful lake in the centre that allows the public complete access to all of the shoreline with parks and pathways around the lake. Canada's capital Ottawa has managed to retain public access to much of the Ottawa River and Rideau Canal riverfront land and maintains beautiful walkways along them that can be enjoyed by all.

This doesn't always happen. Very often the rich or the powerful purchase this prime waterfront land and put fences to keep the public out. In Shanghai, China I enjoyed the riverfront walk along the Bund, but was disappointed when I tried to walk along the other side of the river only to run into a sturdy fence across the boardwalk blocking access where the famous “Oriental Pearl” tower somehow purchased access to the waterfront and no longer let people walk the waterfront without paying to visit their “attraction”. In Bristol, England, I was only able to stroll part way around it's famous “Floating Harbour” before running into expensive private residences blocking further access. I was so impressed by that lake in Hamburg, because they allowed the rich and powerful to build their houses and businesses beside the lake, there was however a road and a public pathway between their houses and the lake so that although they could purchase a permanent view of the lake, everyone could come and have the same view anytime they wanted.

These are only some of the beautiful waterfront walkways I have found on my travels. I'm sure there are many more examples of both public access to waterfronts and places where beautiful waterfront views are reserved for “Private Use” only. I am happy to be able to enjoy the beautiful beachfront promenade here in El Campello.

Food!

2011-03-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

During a stop in Barcelona as part of a Transatlantic cruise, we visited a market and I was amazed at the variety of fruit, vegetables, and especially the cured meat and sausages. I looked at all this delicious food knowing that I couldn't bring any onto the ship, and decided that I'd like to actually come to Spain and spend enough time to actually settle in and cook some of the local food.

Once I actually arrived, I discovered that I had a bit of a false impression of “Spanish” food based on my experience with Mexican and Latin American food. Spanish food, at least the Costa Blanca variety of Spanish food is not spicy. We went to one of the local supermarkets the day we arrived in El Campello, and I got some indication of what was available.

There was lots of delicious looking sausages and cured meat. Most of the sausages have a clear orange tint, from the spice. I have sampled many of the sausages, and discovered that they are actually very unlike our chorizo. or I should say that what we call chorizo back home is not what the actual chorizo is like. The first one I bought was flavorful, but not at all spicy. Another lesson in Spanish; “dulce” is a sweet sausage, where “picante” is a spicy one, but they are all called chorizo.

Everywhere were whole cured legs of ham or jamon serrano. Most bars and small restaurants had them sitting on a counter ready to have thin slices cut off for sandwiches. They are never refrigerated or even packed away, at most covered with a hand towel. Every supermarket or butcher shop had them hanging at various prices. These are salt cured meat, and unlike our ham it is darker in colour. The meat is very flavourful, but salty and a bit tough. Unable to justify purchasing a whole leg, I bought a small chunk of the meat from one of the markets, and used it like bacon for breakfasts.

There were lots of red and green peppers at the markets, but I could not find any of the nice little hot red peppers I expected to see. I'm sure I recall them hanging in bunches from the market stalls in Barcelona. Finally, when I went to the weekly market here in El Campello I found a bag of them, but they were sold not by a Spanish vendor, but a very pleasant Asian lady who warned me that they were “picante – HOT”. I got a whole bag of them for one euro and they lasted me a week. She insisted on giving me a nice batch of fresh parsley to go with them. They were actually not that hot, but did add a bit more flavour to the things I cooked.

The oranges were perhaps the biggest disappointment. Here we were close to Valencia, with an orange named after the city, and everywhere we went we could see acres of trees covered in oranges, yet I have found it difficult to get good oranges. The ones left at the apartment by our hosts from their own tree were good, but many from stores and markets were very dry inside with little juice as if old. I understand that the “Valencia” orange is not known as an eating orange, and is generally used to produce juice, but I would think that the oranges would be much better. Perhaps the locals recognize me as a foreigner and slip me the “old” product.

We do not eat out very much, electing to cook our meals using the fresh local produce, but we have gone out when visiting Madrid, Valencia, Grenada and Alicante. The whole experience is different. Many restaurants use a “Daily Menu” that is a set price with a choice of two courses. The area is known for rice dishes, and we have had a couple of excellent ones usually with seafood mixed. There is little beef and lots of pork. Again, the food is generally full of flavour, but not at all hot or spicy. Of all the food I had in dining out my favorite was the tapas, or bar snacks. In Grenada, almost every bar served free tapas with every drink. One and a half Euro got you a beer and a plate of snacks. It was often on slices of bread, but could have been almost anything. We had a plate of delicious meatballs, stuffed sweet peppers, and squid in sauce. One bar brought over nice pork sandwiches with our beer. Some bars had extensive menus of different tapas, and some had glass cases with pre-made tapas on display so you could choose. For an average price of 5 euro you could get a plate of one type of tapas, so with four people you could order several and get to taste many different things.

Then there is the wine. Alicante is known as a wine producing region, and on the train from Madrid we saw kilometre after kilometre of vineyards prepared for another season of grapes. You can purchase wine in any grocery store or from speciality Bodegas. In the Bodegas you can actually pay a good deal for a bottle of wine, and I'm sure it is very good, but so far I have been quite happy with the selection from the grocery stores. Other than one bottle that sits beside the stove relegated to cooking, even the inexpensive bottles have been excellent. In the grocery stores it is hard to pay more than 10 euros for a bottle, and I purchased one excellent bottle on sale for .99 euros. It is going to be hard to go home and have to pay $20 for a nice bottle of Spanish wine.

The Rain in Spain

2011-03-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

Ok, yes, I admit it, this blog is nothing more than an excuse to brag about how nice it is here compared to back home in Canada. . . . . I can't help it.

I love Nova Scotia, but I don't particularly like waiting through the dreary spring for the summer to arrive. At least I don't live in BC where I have heard it rains from February until May. I therefore try to find some place to go where the weather is better for a while. This year I decided to try Spain; specifically El Campello, a little town about half way down the Spanish Mediterranean coast between Valencia and Alicante.

Our Spanish vacation didn't start so great with a cold rain in Madrid that forced us to retreat to our hotel from an attempt to explore Madrid, but the following day we took the train to El Campello and arrived to a lovely sunny day. I opened the doors to the balcony and comfortably sat outside with a glass of wine.

We have had a day with rain, and a couple of days that were cloudy, but we have just had to endure five straight days of sunshine without a cloud in the sky and temperatures of 18C – 22C. I thought I'd just tell you a bit about what the days are like here in Spain.

The sun has some heat, and it is actually warm in the sun, but the evenings are cool, and the buildings here are not really built for the cool evenings. I have learned to close the doors to the balcony at about four even though the sun is still shining. The wind blows quite strong, and so it cools off if the sun is not shining in the apartment. The balcony on the apartment is very well designed for this time of year. The sun comes over the top of the building across the street at about 10:00, just as I'm returning from my first walk down the beach to the pastry shop for something to go with my second cup of coffee, and it shines on the balcony until 4:00 pm. You can sit outside all day, comfortable in shorts. Lunch on the balcony has become one of our daily routines – local wine, chorizo, fresh vegetables and leftovers from last night.

Most days, we walk down the beach or the boardwalk, and see what is going on a couple of times. In the morning we go to see what the Digger (Thanks to Liam for that word) is doing down at the end of the beach, and stop at the bakery on the way back for a pastry to go with my coffee. I am trying to paint something or sketch something every couple of days, so that is another walk down the beach, and we normally need something from the market, but there are five or six within a ten minute walk. I might if I am energetic go out for another walk with my camera to take pictures of something. Then as the sun goes down we take another walk down the beach to watch the sun set and see what progress the “Digger” (actually a dredger working off the beach digging a trench?) has made during the day. You need a jacket for the evening walk, but certainly not the puffy winter parka's still worn by the natives. The trees lining the main street are in brilliant pink blooms, and the palm trees down the beach are filling out, preparing to shelter the sun-shy from the coming summer season.

I just checked the weather on my computer while at the tavern at the corner and we might get another day of rain next week, but then the rain forecast for this week never arrived. I don't bother checking what it is like back in Nova Scotia because it will only remind me that I have to return in a couple of weeks.

On Spanish Time

2011-03-18T12:01:00.000-07:00

On one of my first days here in El Campello I found a nice little bakery with fresh bread and lovely pastries. We were going for a walk and decided to stop in on the way back to pick something up. Unfortunately we never found it on the way back . . . . or the next day . . . . or the next day The little bakery just disappeared.. I thought I knew approximately where it was, but it was not there.

I then found another bakery down on the waterfront, and this time I noted where it was – and I bought my bread even though I had to carry it on my walk. On my way back I was able to find the bakery, but it was now shuttered and closed in the middle of the day?

I found one of the many grocery stores in the town (I don't know how a quaint little town like this manages to support five grocery stores, and saw some sheep cheese behind the butcher counter. I waited patiently leaning up against the counter thinking someone would come and wait on me. No such luck, staff walked by ignoring me until I finally flagged someone down who wagged her finger at me pointing out the sign with hours on it. It seemed that the grocery store was open, but the butcher was closed for three hours and would open up again at 5:00.

It seems that many shops and services here run on a very different schedule than I was used to. They open at about 9:00 or 10:00, and close in the middle of the afternoon for a “siesta”. They then open again late in the afternoon, and stay open into the evening. Even paces that stay open, sort of go into ”siesta mode” during the afternoon. One afternoon I was across the street at the bar checking my e-mail and working on this blog, when suddenly all the staff stopped working, pushed tables together and had lunch in the middle of the bar. All the staff were involved in this meal, and a couple sitting at the bar were as confused as I was. They finished their drinks and looked around for a waiter to reorder. Finally after it became obvious they wanted something, the waiter got up from his lunch, went over, waited on them, and went back to his lunch

There is construction going on below the apartment, and although it it not terribly noisy, we know they are there, and have become accustomed to their hours. They start work at about 10:00, work until about 3:00, stop for a siesta, and then start again, sometimes working into the evening.

It is difficult to adjust to the Spanish time routine, but since I am trying to actually “Live” here, I have taken to working this three hour “siesta” break into my busy day. It is hard, but it is important to adapt to the local customs – life is hard . . . . . Oh, I did finally find that little bakery; it was right where I thought it was, the shutters were just closed up tightly . I now try to get there in the morning.

Sorry that this blog entry is a bit shorter than normal . . . . . . it's time for siesta . . .

The Alhambra

2011-03-18T11:56:00.000-07:00

A week or so before flying to Spain, we happened upon a travel show on TV with a movie star and a celebrity chef touring Spain. As we watched this show, we realized that not only were they in Spain, but they were touring the area we were going to. The show really was not that good; spending more time showing off the movie star than telling us about Spain, but one thing that we saw was the Alhambra in Grenada. They actually did spend some time touring and talking about this historical site. Since the one side trip we wanted to take was to the city of Grenada, so this show encouraged us to visit the Alhambra while there.

The Alhambra was started in 1238 and originally built as a palace for Mohammad I al-Ahmar, and was added to and modified by both Muslim and Christian from that time until the 1500's. It is now a Spanish National Monument and a World Heritage site.

The entire complex is huge, and occupies the highest hillside in Grenada. The complex consists of both the Alhambra Palaces and the Generalife gardens. In addition there is the oldest part of the complex, the Alcazaba, or the military part of the complex. The views from the Alhambra complex of Grenada is spectacular. Make sure you have plenty of room on your camera card.

As with many historical sites in Europe, the Alhambra has not really been “Restored”, it has been partly rebuilt and stabilized. As you walk through, you realize that this would have been a truly amazing palace. The tile work and amazing carved stonework that is visible now give some indication of what this place must have been like. There are rough stone walls in most places where these would have been covered in smooth white stucco and painted. The intricate carved marble walls in the palace areas show just a hint of the amazing paint that would have covered them when this place was the home to Sultans or Monarchs. The gardens are intricate and well maintained, but I can only imagine them as actual royalty strolled the same paths now used by tourists.

One of the most amazing aspects of the complex is the water system. Everywhere you walk you hear water trickling underfoot feeding a series of ponds and baths as well as keeping the gardens blooming and beautiful in this generally arid part of Spain. As I walked around I could see pipes and sprinklers that have been added, but the original complex was constantly irrigated by a complex system of gravity fed waterworks. The water flowed from the top of the complex through stairways, in and out of ponds, pools and fountains. What makes it so interesting is that the actual waterworks was part of the beauty of the palaces. The water flowed along open passages and trickled down the centre of stairways or flowed beside the handrails down stairs. Everywhere you went water could be heard moving to another part of the waterworks.

The Alhambra is one of the major Tourist attractions in all of Spain. Apparently it is almost as difficult to get tickets during the high tourist season as it is to get into the Vatican, but visiting in March meant we had no wait for tickets, and I was usually able to get pictures without crowds of tourists. The entire complex is extremely efficiently run. There are special “Alhambra Express” busses that run from downtown up to the entrance constantly and we only had to wait for a few minutes for a bus. Your ticket is issued for a specific time and you must be at the actual Palace at that time to get in. Tickets are checked constantly and the number of people allowed in is closely controlled, so I expect that even in busy times the crowds would not be overwhelming. Flow through most of the complex is controlled with signs directing you to follow a set route, but you can move at your own pace and can deviate from the flow. There are many areas that are off limits, but you can normally get close enough to see them. When we toured the site, the Generalife area was mostly closed, but this is primarily gardens, so March is the time when workers doing routine maintenance and getting the gardens ready for the upcoming high season.

If you are visiting Spain, Grenada and the Alhambra should definitely be put onto your itinerary. You will need at least a couple of hours (3 hours is the official recommendation). You can use an audio guide to help you, or you can download a free Bluetooth App for your smartphone, or you can just use the excellent printed Visitor Guide. The complex is BIG, so wear comfortable shoes, and be prepared for a lot of walking and climbing. The visit is worth the time and effort, and then take the bus back down the old part of Grenada and wander the narrow cobblestone streets until you find a Tapas bar you like for a relaxing beer and snack.

Driving in Spain

2011-03-17T12:32:00.000-07:00

Now in Great Britain they have a clever strategy to keep foreigners off their roads. First, they put all the important automotive controls on the wrong side of the car, so you have to sit on the right side of the vehicle. Then they tell you that you have to drive on the left side of the road. They then point you to a nice “M” series motorway, with three nice wide lanes like our freeways only with no real speed limit, so you start feeling pretty confident – “this is not so difficult”. Then you take an exit onto the “real” british roads; their two lane “A” series are the width of our residential streets, and their country roads are only one lane wide with two way traffic. Now this wouldn't be so bad if you could take your time, but you just get comfortable keeping the car from bouncing off the curbs on either side when suddenly there's a big Jag sedan or a Range Rover on you tail going twice your speed, wondering why you can't maintain 100 kph when you have at least a foot between the 500 year old stone wall on one side and the a few inches more on the other side before that 6 foot thorn hedge starts taking the paint of the rental car.

Now I managed pretty well in England, especially considering it was before I had my cataract surgery and couldn't see all that well, so I didn't hesitate to rent a car and drive in Spain.

First, they drive on the right side of the road and their cars are set up correctly so you sit on the left to drive. The roads are very good, nice and wide and well marked. Signage is in Spanish, but easy to understand, so it is quite easy to find your way around.

My first outing was a very pleasant drive along the Mediterranean coast from El Campello to Valencia along the coastal road, N332. This was a road designed for driving, as it wound around the coast and up and down the local mountains and hills. We made this trip on a Sunday, so there was a lot of traffic, with large groups of bicyclists in full bright multi-colour riding gear, providing moving slalom pylons, many motorcyclists out on everything from Vespas, to Sport bike riders in racing leathers blitzing the corners and high speed, and some very interesting sports cars of every vintage. I would have loved to have done this road on the GPZ 550.

Our second trip was a four hour drive to visit Grenada. This trip was mostly on larger four lane divided highways. These highways are very similar to our major highways, with speeds posted at 100 – 110. The roads are well maintained and well serviced. There are lots of service centres with gas stations and convenient rest areas (no toilets however). The exits are well marked and plenty of warnings are given for them. It was a challenge to figure out some of the regular signs however. There was one sign with two motorcycles with their back wheels in the air following a car. It could have meant “No Stunt Riding”, but as I tried to convince the little Fiat Panda to get up the mountain, I realized it meant that those Blitzing sport bikes had better be aware of overtaking underpowered fiats going very slow up the hills.

The drivers that we shared the roads with were all very courteous. I only heard a horn blow once while in a traffic jam in Valencia, and normally they are patient to pass, and generally calm. There were a lot of large trucks on the highways to Grenada, and they generally stick to the right hand lane, allowing other traffic to pass easily. When they do pass other vehicles, they do it quickly and pull in immediately. Although I saw no signs about lane use, most drivers remain in the right lane unless actually passing, and when they pass they immediately switch back to the right lane. Never once did I find the little old lady with the purple hair in the 1978 Cadillac blissfully cruising at 80 in the left lane.

There did seem to be a distinct class system on the highways. There were loads of trucks, who obviously knew their place was in the right lane. There were the “Ordinary” folk who drove Fiats, Volkswagens, Renaults, or Citroens, who stayed in their right lanes most of the time, but were welcome to switch over occasionally to pass slower drivers. Then there were the large Mercedes, BMW's and Audis. There seemed to be a different rule for them. They were polite, but it was obvious that they felt that the left lanes were built for big fast German sedans with only one person (What fuel crisis?). Most of these cars cruised the left lane at least 20 – 30 kph faster than everyone else. I never saw one pulled over for speeding, and the speed limit was recently lowered from 120 to 110. When you pulled out to pass you had to watch out, because they were travelling so much faster that without warning you would see a big sedan filling the mirrors feet from your rear bumper. What surprised me was the politeness of everyone. Even these big faster sedans didn't glare at you as they roared by like so ofter happens in North America when you inadvertently get in a faster vehicle's way. These cars just waited for you to pull over and then accelerated rapidly by without a second look – they knew there were folk who couldn't afford cars that could maintain decent speeds but they just accepted them and moved on.

All in all, driving the highways and byways of Spain was a very pleasant experience. The cities are another story, but anyone coming to Spain, I would not hesitate to suggest you rent a car to get around. . . . . BUT as I said before – The trains are an awfully civilized way to travel.

Orange Pickers

2011-03-17T12:29:00.000-07:00

One day we decided to take a trip to Valencia a couple of hours up the coast. We rented a car to make this trip and a trip to Grenada later. There is a very nice coastal highway that follows the Mediterranean Sea from town to town. The road wanders in and out of coastal communities and up and down the mountains in this area. We elected to take this road instead of the more direct and faster divided highways so we could see some of the sites from the area.

It really proved to be a beautiful drive and the views of the coast were spectacular. It was a beautiful day and lots of people were out for drives with us. On a stop to fill the car I happened upon a gathering of beautiful sports cars including two Jag E-Types, three Porsches, a couple of MG's , and a lovely AC/Cobra.

Now driving to Valencia we also saw many, many oranges growing in orchards along the road. It would have been so tempting to stop and pick one of the lovely ripe fruit, but discussions of Orange Police and “I'm not bailing you out if you get caught steeling oranges!” kept us in the car. Watching these Orange Orchards did however produce another interesting sight.

As we were driving along, we observed a young woman standing along side the road, dressed in very “provocative” attire. A comment was made about “I wonder who she is waiting for dressed like that?”. Then there was another, this time sitting alongside an orange orchard, in a plastic lawn chair, also dressed rather fancy . . . Then another similarly decked out. One was reading a magazine while sitting in a chair, another had headphones in her ear listening to something.

The suggestion was made that since they seemed to be beside the orange orchards, then perhaps they were waiting to go to work picking oranges, but they did not seem to be dressed for this sort of work. Finally we passed one young woman wearing black stockings and black leather hot-pants standing with her hands on her hips watching traffic and we decided that, no she definitely did not seem to be working as an orange picker.

Then we passed a couple more standing waiting for customers while a police vehicle was passing out a ticket to a motorist, and we motored on with more questions than answers . . . . .

Was this legal in this particular area?

Where exactly did they perform their services? There were no houses close by; just orange orchards?

Since no one really felt like stopping to ask them we continued on our way with no answers to our questions.

Fresh Fish

2011-03-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

Ok, now my daughter lived in Japan where they have the largest seafood market in the world. I admit, it's not the Tokyo Fish Market, but El Campello has its own fish auction and we went today, found it, and came home with a “denton.” We had no idea what it was, but it at least resembled a fish we could recognize. The fellow at the cash register gave us instructions for how to cook it in the oven on a bed of potatoes, onions, olive oil and white wine. We shall see how it turns out.

In the information on the apartment, it said there was a local fish auction where you could get fresh fish daily, and we were anxious to give it a try. However, since we arrived on a Saturday the weather has been too windy for the fishermen to go out, today was the first day the auction was open. I walked down earlier and located the building holding the auction, and wandered around the dock looking at the fishing boats.

The auction starts at 6:15 each day, and I went down early to scope the place out. I was a bit worried because there were only two cars in the lot, and no one around. As I wandered down the dock, I could see a flock of seagulls out to sea, and sure enough under the cloud of wings was a boat steadily making for port. As the boat came through the narrows and slipped up to the wharf, people started to gather. I wondered if somehow the auction took place on the wharf, but no, everyone was just wanting to get a sneak peek of the catch before it was brought in to the auction house. The boat was tied up and the crew started washing and sorting their catch. They had quite a variety of species. I saw fish, squid, octopus, crayfish, and other items I did not recognize. There was a lot of discussion going on amongst the gathered crowd, but unfortunately for me it was all in Spanish, so I did not pick up any hints as to what was good or bad.

All the catch was loaded onto trays, and then into a van which drove to the actual auction building - with the crowd moving as well. There was a wait while everything was weighed and displayed and as we waited. The various seafood was brought out and displayed on a long table with little hand-written labels telling how much it weighed. It was obvious that this auction was not aimed at big buyers, as most of the items were displayed in batches of between 1 kg to 1.5 kg. This was obviously aimed at individual buyers or small restaurants.

By the time the table was covered with fish, there was a considerable crowd gathered and it was obvious that some people were here to get particular items. There were hushed discussions between husbands & wives or groups of young men as well a pair of Asian men that carried on until the auctioneer came out and went into a detailed exclamation about how the auction was going to work. Well, at least this is what I assumed he was doing; it was all in Spanish, and I got that everything was priced by the kilogram, but not much else.

I was interested in watching the auction, but I was not planning to bid on any fish. However I told my son that since he was the seafood expert that it was his job to get a fish for supper. There were a few leftovers in the fridge, so if he couldn't figure it out we wouldn't go hungry.

It actually worked pretty well. There is a minimum price they will sell the product for, so we just waited and watched. The people who wanted something special threw their hands up when the price reached something they could live with, but we just waited until they moved the fish that didn't sell to the other end of the table and then went down picked out one and paid for it. I hope it tastes good, but at least I know it is fresh.

Climbing the "Big Rock"

2011-03-15T10:17:00.000-07:00

When our friends from Egypt were driving down from Barcelona to visit us in El Campello for a few days, they saw this “Big Rock” not far outside El Campello and decided they wanted to go back to see it while they were visiting us.

Now it is not really called the “Big Rock”, although that is certainly a good way to describe it. The actual name is “Penyal d'ifac”, and is in fact a Spanish National Park. It is a 45 hectares park and the rock itself is 232 m high, so I guess that the description as a “Big Rock” is actually pretty accurate. I'm no geologist, but there must be a term for this type of natural formation, and the area is full of similar “rocks”, many of which have been turned into locations of fortifications and castles. The city of Alicante has a spectacular fort built onto a rock like this that provided protection from invading hoards. What makes this formation special is that it juts out into the sea, and has a gentle isthmus connecting it to the mainland, allowing easy access.

Entrance to the park is free, as is parking at the base, which is very nice in this time where you seem to have to pay for everything. It was a cool and very windy day, so there were very few other cars in the parking area. Although there were not many people exploring the rock with us, I was surprised at how many there were. Another indicator that the Spanish are not as dependent on their cars to get around. All the other folk climbing the rock had to have gotten there somehow, but when we left there was only one other vehicle parked with us.

Climbing the rock is a two stage event. The first part is relatively easy and safe with a steep but well maintained pathway paved with rocks and protected by wooden handrails. There is even a wheelchair accessible section allowing access to a spectacular viewing platform part way up the first section. It took us about 20 minutes to climb up the first part of the trail, but we made numerous stops to look back over the town and beach as they grew smaller as each switchback came to the edge of the rock and fell off to the sea on either side. At first we marvelled at the views each time and snapped photos, but quickly realized that the next viewing spot was going to be even more spectacular, so we waited until we got to the top.

The first part of the climb ends at a solid stone face, and I am not sure how access to the higher elevations was reached in the past, but in 1918, while the rock was owned privately, a tunnel was cut through from one side of the rock face to the other, allowing easier access to the rest of the climb. The tunnel is actually quite treacherous with the passage of many feet wearing the rocks to a smooth slippery and uneven surface necessitating holding a rope the entire way through.

When you come out the other side of the tunnel, you are presented with an entirely different type of trail. Gone are the paved paths and wooden handrails. The remaining trail is simply a natural pathway along the rock face. There are ropes added to the inside wall in particularly dangerous places, but the entire trail is listed as dangerous and it is not recommended unless wearing actual climbing shoes and children are strongly discouraged. Although I was wearing a sturdy pair of walking shoes they did not have an aggressive “climbing” sole, and one of our party had regular shoes on. After venturing out along the remaining trail to “have a look” I reached a section of smooth warn stone sloping off at a 40 degree angle to a sheer drop to the Mediterranean Sea a hundred meters below. A rope hold was provided, but this convinced me that we had gone far enough, and I reported back that we might not want to go all the way to the top.

We cannot actually say that we climbed to the top of the “Big Rock”, but we certainly climbed part of it, and it was still a wonderful adventure added to our Spanish trip.

Living In El Campello

2011-03-11T10:59:00.000-08:00


Our Home in Spain (Above the silver blue car)

Finally this blog entry is actually about living in Spain. My goal for this trip is not to “see” Spain, but to actually “live” in one area, get to know the area, the food, the customs, and the people. I did this when I went to China; I never did get to walk the Great Wall, see the Forbidden City, or visit Tibet, but I knew my way around Suzhou as well as many of the natives. By the end of my two months there I was telling them things about their city they did not know. I was hoping to take the same approach here in El Campello, Spain.

El Campello is a resort town on the Mediterranean Sea, almost half way between Barcelona in the north and Gibraltar (Great Britain) in the south. The area is one of the principle resort areas in Spain, and is popular for tourists from England, France and Germany. The apartment we are renting is owned by a couple from England who used it as a vacation home before they retired, bought a house and moved to Spain to live.


The Promenade along the El Campello Waterfront

The apartment is in a building one block from the beach in the old part of the town. If you walk down the boardwalk there is a much newer part of El Campello with huge apartment blocks of vacation homes. This area is mostly lower building on narrow streets with many little restaurants and bars. If you go out onto the balcony off the living area, you can see down the street to the beach and the Marina beyond, where I am told there is a fish auction every day at 6:00 pm where the public can buy fresh seafood. (Regis has admitted to knowing how to clean fish, so we may go see if we can get some fresh fish.) We can hear the waves on the beach from the balcony unless it is very calm. Under the Apartment is a restaurant that is currently under renovation by the bar across the street where I got to get access to the internet. The building is four stories high and we are on the second floor, but as far as I can tell, there is almost no one actually here. Most of the other apartments are shuttered and at least two are for sale, so it is very quiet. When walking down the beach, we noticed that some of the large apartment buildings only seemed to have a couple of the units occupied; the rest dark with shutters down. Even the renovations going on downstairs are rather low key – they don't seem to start until about 10:00, knock of for the Spanish siesta from 2:00 – 5:00, and don't seem to really get back to serious work after the rest most days.

The apartment is very nice, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large comfortable living room with a balcony out front, a well equipped kitchen, and a pleasant little sitting area/courtyard off the master bedroom. The beds are comfortable, the entire apartment was clean and very well appointed when we arrived. The owners left a “Welcome Package” including basic groceries, a bottle of wine, and a bowl of fresh oranges picked from a tree in their yard, so we did not have to immediately locate a grocery store for our supper, instead we could pour a glass of wine and relax on the balcony in the Spanish sunshine after we unpacked.

Now we did discover that it is definitely the “off season” here this time of year. As the sun went down, it did get cold. The apartment is built for a warm climate, and all the windows are single pane glass and the nice wooden windows close securely but not tightly with not a hint of weather stripping. Fortunately the living room and the master bedroom have the same heater/AC units I had in China or Europe and they are able to dispel the evening chill with the help of the ceiling fan. I guess this is why so many of the units are unoccupied this time of year; when the sun is shining we find it lovely, but the locals must find it cold and chilly.

It is only day 6 and we have been entertaining the friends or our son up to this point, so we have plenty of time to try out this “living” in El Campello thing.

A Civilized Way to Travel

2011-03-11T10:55:00.000-08:00

In North America, we have become dependent upon our cars to get around, but in much of the world owning car is a luxury, or simply not really necessary. In many areas of the world people depend on trains and mass transit systems to get them around. When we researched a place to rent in Spain one of the important criteria was that we would not need to rent a car. We found that we could fly into Madrid from North America and then take a train to El Campello where the apartment was located, and from there we could get up and down the coast on local trains.

In Canada, our train system has been slowly downgraded from a National transportation system to at best a regional system that is really not essential and not used much. The trains the stations and the tracks are old, and although you can travel by train, it is not really convenient, or efficient and so people have neglected it for their cars. Here in Europe the trains are modern fast and convenient, and in many cases the preferred way of transport.

We knew we were taking the train from Madrid, so we booked a hotel that was close to the Metro and the train stations. The Train station is a massive place with a continuous stream of trains coming and going. The trains are coming in from all over the country and so the station is centrally located and people can come in on the train and walk to the Metro to get around the city easily.

We arrived at the train station in the morning, passed through a security gate where our luggage was X-rayed and we found a large waiting area full of people waiting with us for trains leading out of the city. Our train to Alicante was scheduled for exactly 9:25 am, and it we were told that the platform would be announced 20 minutes prior to departure. These times were completely accurate, and we were able to board the train about 15 minutes early.

The train was clean, modern with large comfortable seats with folding trays, foot rests and audio outlets. The car was full and people settled in all around us. The lady across from us fell asleep, the young woman behind her pulled out a stack of work sheets and started marking them with a red pen (Those teachers are the same all over the world), a young man across the isle set up his computer and started working while listening to music, and the two fellows behind us started chatting in Spanish. These people obviously are used to this way to travel.

The train pulled out of the station at exactly 9:25, and after slowly making it's way out of the city, sped up to 250 kph, smoothly and quietly. We were given a pair of earphones, and a movie started on the TV monitor in the ceiling. You could also choose to listen to various choices in music if you did not want to watch the movie (In Spanish only). There was a car behind us with a little cafe which was constantly full of people having a coffee or a snack. There was a washroom in each car and a little sign in the front of the car informed you if it was occupied. There was a nice area to store your luggage and plenty of room over your seat for smaller items.

Travelling by train is different than flying or driving. In a plane you get scenery for a few minutes as you take off or land, but looking at the top of clouds is rather boring after a bit. In your car you get lots of scenery, but you are strapped into a small area, and cannot move around easily. As well you have to be constantly watching for signs and other vehicles even if you are the passenger. In the train, someone else is driving and you can relax. It is quiet and comfortable; I spent my time paying some attention to the movie while watching the Spanish country side go by, while Regis listened to music and slept. We were following the highway for a while and rapidly passed the cars and trucks using this way to move around Spain.

The ride from Madrid to Alicante took 3 hours and 10 minutes exactly. We stopped at four stations along the way where passengers quickly got off and on and the train quickly continued on it's way. We were scheduled to arrive at 12:35 and the train actually stopped for 6 minutes outside of the city so that we pulled into the station at exactly 12:35. The teacher packed up her papers, the napping lady woke up, stretched and put on her jacket, the young man put away his computer and his Iphone, and the two guys behind up continued chatting in Spanish. We arrived in Alicante relaxed and rested and the people who owned the apartment were waiting for us in the station to drive us to El Campello about 20 minutes away. As we crammed our luggage into their trunk, belted our seatbelts and pulled out into a traffic jam through road construction, it was really easy to realize that this train system really is a very civilized way to travel.

It's A Small World

2011-03-11T10:47:00.000-08:00

I know you are probably looking to read something about my trip to Spain here, but I'm doing the “Slow Travel” thing, so I'm not up to writing about Spain yet. I've only been here a couple of days and we have been busy finding our way around the town.

One of the greatest experiences while travelling is to meet up with someone from home in a foreign local. I find it really amazing that you can find someone when you are both thousands of miles from home. You can plan it, organize it, even hope it works, but it is such a feeling when the person you know suddenly comes into sight in another country, another time zone, or another continent.

We have accomplished this a number of times, and it always feels great. We are especially good at it with my dad. The first time was in Knoxville Tenn. When my mom & dad were circumnavigating North America in their camper van. We decided to meet up with them in Tennessee, visit Dollywood and tour the Eastern US on the way home with them. We had a little Boler trailer at the time, and towed it down through the New England states and across to Tennessee. Dad had arranged to meet at a campground outside Pigeon Forge & Knoxville, and we had good directions, finding it with no difficulty. When we checked in, we were told that, yes, indeed Mr. & Mrs. Hill were there and we were given the campsite next to them. Although they were gone when we arrived it was thrilling to pull in and recognize their “Stuff” in the next site.

The next time was in Rome when we met Dad and his wife to take a 21 day four continent transatlantic cruise. We had come from a week with friends in Egypt and they had come directly from home. We arrived at the hotel and received a message that they had gone to eat. We walked down the street in the direction indicated by the hotel desk clerk, and there they were walking up the other side of the boulevard.

The next year we did it again in England. Dad & Sharon had been in England for a week, and we flew in, took a train from London to Hilberton. They drove from Wales and met us only 20 minutes late. Then the next day we met my sister and her husband who had come from another part of England with his parents so we could all spend a week on a canal boat to Bristol. It was quite the feeling to all come together within 15 minutes from all over England.

This year, we are renting an apartment in Spain for a month, and our friends from Egypt were in Barcelona and decided to come spent a couple of days with us in El Campello. The apartment is in the old part of town at the end of a little narrow one way street, so although we had given them good instructions it was such a nice feeling to see their familiar faces waving from the rental car as they saw us waiting on the balcony.

It really is a heart warming experience and truly shows how small our world really is. I suggest you try it some time.

Welcome to Barcelona

2010-03-05T18:10:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Barcelona:

Barcelona, Spain is a beautiful city, It is clean, well laid out and friendly. Our cruise ship stopped here and we decided to explore the city on our own rather than taking one of the rather pricey “Ship Tours”. The shuttle bus from the boat dropped us close to the main street so a short walk found us immersed in Barcelona.

The main street is a broad street with a wide pedestrian area between traffic. In this wide area there are little kiosks selling tourist items, small restaurants and many human statues the area is famous for. It is a nice place to walk, with trees, benches and lots of interesting sites, and we wandered down here until we found the beautiful city market – more about markets in another Blog entry.

With only a short time in the city, we had decided that the one site we wanted to see was La Sagrada Familia, the famous incredible unfinished church built by the amazing Spanish architect Gaudi. It was a long walk, and since my father and his wife wished to see it too, we decided to try out the Barcelona underground. It looked like we could get there with only one transfer, so we set out.

The subway in Barcelona is the nicest I have ever used. I thought Tokyo's subway was well designed and easy to use, but this one is even better. It is clean, easy to use, fast and the cars are modern and impressive.

As the train pulled in, we got ready to enter the car. I stepped through the door, but ran right into two young women coming off the car. I moved to go around them, they moved the same way. Something wasn't right here, and I was instantly suspicious. As I stepped passed them, my hand went to my pocket with my wallet. GONE! I was well prepared wearing a pair of Tilley travel pants with a zippered front pocket which contained my wallet instead of the normal back pocket, but it was not there now.

Without even looking I whipped around, and grabbed the closest of the two girls. I got a good grip on her arm, and snapped “Give me back my wallet!” I could see the fear in her eyes, and I knew her arm was not comfortable. It was obvious she was not used to this situation and just wanted out of the train – she did not want to be in the car with me when the train left, so my wallet was instantly dropped on the floor and as I retrieved it she was gone.

I could see the surprise on the faces of the other passengers – it was obvious these Spanish pick-pockets were not usually caught and they were very pleased that this one did not get my wallet. I had many smiles and clapping. I expect that she will go one to continue this dodgy career, and I can't do much about that, but this was one pick-pocket that went home with a pretty good bruise on her arm to remember one Canadian tourist that didn't give us his money so easily. Back on the ship, I found that I was not the only victim of this aspect of Barcelona's welcome to visitors.

I enjoyed Barcelona, and Gaudi's church was amazing, but unfortunately, my pick-pocket adventure was how I will remember Barcelona.

Balloons in the Breeze

2009-09-14T13:30:00.000-07:00

I love to fly! I get a rush as the pilot throttles up the engines to lift thousands of pounds of steel and aluminium off the ground into the sky, and I love watching him bring the same plane to rest again in a squeal of tortured rubber down the middle of the strip of concrete. I recently had a vastly different “flying experience” at the Atlantic International Balloon Fiesta in Sussex, NB.

Coming back from an RV trip to Ontario we noted the Balloon festival in a New Brunswick Tourism Guide, and decided to go. We have a friend, Joan who is from Sussex, and after asking her about the festival we found ourselves not only with a guide to this New Brunswick town but also a place to stay for the weekend in her family homestead with her 91 year old mother.

Sussex is a vibrant, growing town in southern New Brunswick, surrounded by an active farming district. The town in just off the main highway between Moncton and Saint John. It acts as a hub for the surrounding area, and has a number of thriving industries keeping this maritime town growing where so many small towns are dying out at the expense of the large cities.

Arriving in Sussex early afternoon, we settled in and then left early to try to find a parking spot so Joan's mother would be able to see the balloons launch. She has lived in Sussex most of her life, but although the balloon festival has been taking place for over 20 years, she had never seen them close up. The volunteer at the “Handicapped Parking” entrance was sympathetic to Joan's stories, and we were able to get a spot for the car close enough that her mother could see the balloons launch without leaving the car.

Watching these balloons launch is an awe-inspiring experience. A field slowly filled with trucks and cars with trailers containing the balloons. As the time for the launch approached, the wicker baskets, large fans, and packaged balloons were pulled from the vehicles and began to appear around the field. After a couple of trial balloons (Always wondered where this expression originated) were launched to test the wind direction and speed, the real balloons were rolled out across the field, and large fans fired up to inflate them. As the crew held the bottoms of the envelopes open, these fans forced air in, slowly revealing the shape and colour of the balloons. The field, once a simple green ball field, suddenly came alive with a riot of colour as the balloons slowly rose from the ground. Once the balloon envelopes filled with air, the propane burners were fired up and the air inside is heated and expanded. With crew members holding and steadying the basket, the heated air pulls the acres of brightly coloured nylon upright revealing the final shapes and colours. All over the field, balloons of all colours and patterns appeared. Pilots and passengers scrambled into the baskets, and the heated air tugged the huge balloons out of the hands of the ground crews and into the sky. One after an other, over 25 brilliantly coloured balloons ascended into the warm evening sunshine and floated away in the breeze.

My goal for the festival was to take pictures of the balloons, but as I snapped hundreds of photos on Friday evening, I quickly decided that this was one experience that I had to see from the other side of the fence. I wanted to go up in one of the balloons, and immediately signed up for a flight the next morning. My wife was not so brave, suggesting that I try it first, and perhaps she would go another year. She did however encourage me to experience it.

Arriving at the field at 6:00 Saturday morning, we watched the sun come up on a lovely calm September morning – a perfect day for a balloon flight. Paying my fee, I was introduced to Derald Young of Damn Yankee Balloons, who was to be my pilot for the flight, and we walked over to the balloon being prepared by his ground crew, many of them volunteers from the Sussex area. I was introduced to three other passengers who were flying with me, a couple from Northern NB, and a woman from the US. Watching the basket being readied, it looked very small to hold us all. It was interesting to stand beside the balloon as it readied for the fight, and being able to look up into the envelope watching the heated air shimmer in the early morning sunshine as the balloon pulled itself upright was truly an incredible sight. I climbed into the basket along with the other three passangers, and sat on padded seats on top of the propane tanks, leaving Derald to stand between our legs. We were then joined by a crew member, another balloon pilot from California, helping Derald on this trip. We did all fit, and although accommodations were tight, I was expecting to have to stand, so it was crowded but comfortable.

The actual “take-off” couldn't be more different from an airplane; you could hardly feel the balloon leave the ground. One minute we were on the ground, the next we were floating into the air surrounded by other rainbow coloured airships, floating across the field, over the power-lines and houses of Sussex. On the ground, your balloon and those around you tower over you so you can see very little, but as you become airborne, the balloons space themselves out and the view of the other balloons as well as the countryside around surrounds you. No windows, no seat-belts, no aluminium shell, just the early morning sunshine and gentle breeze. On the ground the September morning was chilly, but once in the air it was lovely. The breeze that felt chilly on the ground was carrying us across the New Brunswick countryside, so we did not feel it.

As we settled into a gentle flight over the town of Sussex, across the Trans Canada Highway waving to stopped cars, and over the farms, fields, rivers and forests of southern New Brunswick, Derald answered questions and explained the art of balloon flight. Although he told us that he had almost no actual steering ability and we were completely at the mercy of the breeze, his ability to find the air currents that would move us where he wanted to go gave us all confidence in his ability. He explained that this particular location is popular because it always provided a variety of wind and air currents that allowed the pilots to control their balloon's flight. The pilots search for these air currents by changing elevations by heating or allowing the air to cool within the envelope. As we flew along, we watched balloons below us skimming across the cornfields so low they were “Tickling the tassels” or descending to “Touch & Go” on the water in a pond, while others soared high above us. We flew beside the building of a potash mine close enough that we could talk to the workers taking a break on the roof. We watched one balloon catch a current that took her directly across our path, and another neatly fly between two trees. The flight was mostly completely silent except for when the pilot fired up the propane burners to heat the air to make the balloon raise.

The chase crew towing the trailer for the balloon has no more idea where the balloon is going than we do, and we followed their progress on the ground, driving ahead of us, watching us pass overhead and then moving on, trying to guess where we would land. After over an hour in the air, Darald started looking for a suitable place to put the balloon down. After rejecting a couple of fields, he announced he liked the gravel parking lot next to a building. The breeze would insure he stayed to the right of the power lines, and he should be to the left of the big yellow tractor. All four of us passengers were pretty confident up to this point, but when he informed us not to worry about the trees suddenly coming rather quickly towards us – that was all part of the plan; they were used to slow the final approach down a bit. “Hold on” he instructed. No need to worry, we gently brushed through the trees, and hit the parking lot with a little thump, bounced once and settled. Oops didn't see that dump truck entering the parking lot at the same time. Derald simply kept the balloon inflated above our heads until the load was dumped and then let the balloon envelope gently settle back to the ground guided by the chase crew who had arrived by this time. After packing the balloon back into the trailer, Derald broke out a bottle of Champaign to toast a successful flight – a tradition apparently started when early balloonists appeased angry landowners by sharing their bubbly after landing in the middle of a field. Asked if the local landowners minded the many balloons landing in the fields around Sussex, Derald explained that all balloons carried an additional bottle of wine that was given to the landowner and the festival organizers held a lottery where anyone who had a balloon land in their farm was given a chance to win a load of lime for their fields.

The balloons launched twice a day Friday, Saturday, & Sunday at 6:30 AM and 6:30 PM. But festival organizers had Craft Fairs, parades, skateboarding shows, “Show & Shine” car show organized to keep visitors busy and entertained throughout the weekend. This was an ideal weekend with near perfect weather for Balloons, but if the winds were too high or if it was raining, the balloons would not have been able to fly. The festival is in its 24^th year and is growing, so the successful days must generally outnumber the bad weather. I certainly plan to return next year and will spread the word about this wonderful event. Maybe I can convince my wife to go up next year???

The Auchan Experience

2009-05-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

No matter where you live you have to buy groceries, there are always local markets, but more and more we buy the necessities of life at a supermarket. When I first arrived in Suzhou, I walked down the street to a little market and a small grocery store for the essentials. You know orange juice, bread, eggs, beer, important items that civilized life requires. I was determined to cook my own meals and eat Chinese food, so I had to determine where everyone else shopped. Gordon, my roommate, another Canadian from Calgary came to my rescue and said, “No problem, you just need to have the Auchan Experience!”. He gave me directions and lent me his bike and I was off.

Now I have shopped in supermarkets all over the world, and seen some large stores, but this was without a doubt the biggest. It didn't look like much from the outside, and you couldn't see the actual store. You park on the ground floor and go up an escalator to the actual store. As you rise into the world of Auchan, your first sight is rows and rows or scooters for sale – I wondered where they all came from. Canadian Tire back home might have a few little motorcycles for sale, but here they have every possible size, colour and variety of Scooter (Or E-Bike I am told is the correct term). You have to walk a ways just to get into the store, but stepping inside you cannot help by be amazed at the size of this place. This being my first experience I walked right to one end to explore the whole thing. From all the way at one end you actually cannot see to the other end – it is too far away.

Ok, now, starting at one end they sell, computers, Televisions, washers, stoves, pots tents, plants , shoes, clothing, dog food, books, Cds & DVDs, bicycles, and . . . . . . oh, forget it , I think they sell everything, yes, there are the car parts, and the tools, and I still can't see the other end of the store. They don't have everything, and you can certainly find cheaper things on sale elsewhere, but in two months in China I can only think of one thing I couldn't get there, a roll of metal strapping to fix my bike, and it was available next door at the Chinese Home Depot B & Q (They even wear orange aprons).

Like Costco back home, this place is dangerous. You are always finding things you didn't realize you needed so badly. I found black cotton Chinese shoes for 10 RMB ($1.50), I found an electric kettle for 24 RMB ($6.00)I found some really nice journals – oops, I came here for groceries and I had to carry all this back on the bike; some of this stuff will have to wait.

When you actually get to the “grocery” section in Auchan, it is like entering a different world. Coming along the back of the store you come first to the meat department. There is an in-store butcher, so all the meat is fresh and packed in the store, but I had to go by looks, because there is no English on the packages. The first thing you notice is the variety of meat. They have way more “cuts than I was used to, and I quickly discovered that the Chinese eat the meat that us westerners throw away, and the lean cuts we favour back home are not popular. I could always get nice lean cuts of pork, beef or chicken, whereas the chicken necks, pig feet, beef intestines, or duck heads were usually pretty well picked over. Although there was always lots of choice on the shelves, the Chinese seem to prefer their meat fresher than fresh, and are willing to stand in long lines to get the butcher to cut something special for them. There was always a long line-up in front of the butcher, and walking by you could hear the customers yelling their orders at the cleaver wielding men behind the counter. They really do not waste anything, and it seems that the Chinese have found a tasty way to prepare any part of the animal. When I discovered the whole duck heads neatly packaged, I thought this must be purely a decorative item, but after questioning one of the teachers, I discovered that it is in fact a real treat – one however that I will pass on I think.

The vegetables are wonderful in China. They are always so fresh and tasty; so much better than the ones that have to be shipped from Florida, Mexico or California all the way to my city in Canada. The variety is amazing with whole aisles of peppers, mushrooms and greens. Now if I could only figure out what everything was. The peppers, potatoes, broccoli, and the tomatoes I recognize, but what on earth is that white thing, and who knew they could grow beans that long. Those carrots have got to be Genetically modified – I have never seen a carrot so big! There is a whole aisle full of what looks like herbs, but I can't see or smell anything I recognize. I quickly decided that I would try something new every trip, and have brought home lots of mystery vegetables to be introduced to my stir fry, Chinese soup, or curry. Most have been very welcome additions to my diet.

Then there was the black wood ear fungus. One of the teachers, Catherine, gave me a recipe for lotus root with black wood ear fungus. Now that has got to be the least appetizing sounding item I have heard in a long time, but I trusted Catherine, and wanted to try her recipe. I however, had no idea what Lotus root in it's raw form looked like, and black wood ear fungus is definitely not on any grocer's shelf back home. Now Catherine offered to buy it for me, and her mom kindly picked up the lotus root, but I wanted to do this on my own. Once I knew what the Lotus root looked like, I was able to find it at Auchan, and low-and-behold, there right beside it was a package of decidedly fungusy looking stuff that actually resembled black ears. No matter how disgusting it looked I bought it, and brought it home. I took the label off, took a photo of it and sent the photo to Catherine asking if I got the right stuff. Unfortunately she did not get back to me in time, so I took a chance and following her recipe, cooked it all up for supper. Not too bad actually, and she e-mailed me back (after we had eaten it) to confirm that I had indeed purchased the right thing. When I get home I wonder what Pete Luckett will say when I ask him for black wood ear fungus?

The seafood department is not even close to the meat department so it took me a while to discover it. There is some frozen seafood, and you can buy very expensive salmon fillets, but there the familiar ends. All other fish is sold whole, and most is sold live. The seafood department is a series of large tanks full of live fish. Each tank has a nice dip net attached and you simply choose your seafood, scoop it up in the net, and put it in a bag. Don't worry it will stop thrashing around by the time you get to the check out. You can also buy live turtles, eels and frogs – and I don't think they are for pets (That's at the other end of the store). Just don't choose that one swimming upside down. My dear father did his duty and took me fishing long enough to discover that I found it boring, and we never got to the “cleaning the fish”, lessons, so I'm afraid that seafood will remain out of my diet until I get back to Nova Scotia.

Back home I always keep eggs in the fridge, and here I find myself with time to prepare large breakfasts every morning, so I needed some eggs. In Halifax I have a choice of white, brown or outrageously expensive organic eggs, but here in China I have to choose between probably 30 different varieties and packaging all at different prices. I'm afraid I stuck with what I know, and brought some nice brown eggs home. The most popular choice for the Chinese was the Fresh eggs bought from large bins full of straw and bought in bulk by the bag. There was always an Auchan employee selling bulk eggs, and I never saw the lineup to get them less than 50 people. One day the line to get fresh eggs stretched half the length of the store and turned the corner into the wine and beer section.

It is always entertaining to just wander around Auchan looking at things. You can buy seaweed Soda Crackers, orange juice with sparkles in it, or Cookies made with Onions. The choice of Soy sauce is mind boggling, and the snack section is a constant source of wonder. How about Vanilla Olives, Broad Bean Cookies, or Fresh Cucumber Pringles? I have also discovered that I have become part of the Auchan experience as well. I am always catching the Chinese peering into my cart to see what I am buying. They don't even try to hide it. It is no sideways peek, this is an intent examination of the contents of my baskets. “Lets see what those foolish foreigners eat?” I think in most cases they are probably disappointed, because I have made a point of buying Chinese style food, and I pass most of the “Western” section quite happily. I can however imagine them laughing at my selection of meats, “Looks like the foreigner couldn't find the chicken feet, necks or wings, he picked up the cheap old chicken breast instead, must be on a limited budget.”

Just getting around this store is an experience. At first I just picked up a basket, because I only ever bought enough to comfortably carry home on the bike, but I quickly discovered that no matter how much you buy, a cart is essential, because carrying the groceries is only it's secondary purpose. The main reason to use a cart, is for personal protection against other carts, so of course you can figure out the other purpose. Without a cart, you are constantly being run into by someone who wants something where you are standing. If you are standing where someone wants to go, they simply try to move you with their cart. There is no “Excuse me?” or “Opps, sorry!”, the world of Auchan, is a dog-eat-dog world, and the most aggressive shopping cart gets the best buys. I quickly adopted to this technique, and I must admit, I've gotten pretty good at it. I think even the little old ladies who used to take advantage of the unknowing foreigner to push me out of their way are impressed with my acquired technique of edging my cart in at 45 degrees to wedge them out of the way to get those promotional broad beans or oranges.

The Humble Administrator?

2009-05-09T07:41:00.001-07:00

Ok now, who ever heard of a “humble” administrator? Most of the administrators I had to work with were anything but “humble”. Now of course I'm not talking about School based administrators like principals and vice-principal, because they have no choice but to be humble, stuck between demanding teachers and demanding administrators. I guess it must be different here in China, because one of their most recommended attractions in Suzhou is this Humble Administrator's Garden. After visiting and enjoying Tiger Hill, I decided to go visit this garden while my daughter Alisha was here visiting me from Japan. She is a talented amateur photographer (Taught her all she knows), and I thought this might be a chance to go picture-taking with her.

The gardens of Suzhou vary in admission prices, and this one at 70 RMB is one of the most expensive, so you would expect it to be one of the best, and it lives up to all the expectations. We were even given a usable map with English as well as Chinese, making it much easier to find your way around. There are also signs throughout the garden telling you where you are, although I can't quite figure out why the red dots that locate your present position on the map were all rubbed out. Why do people have to actually touch the dot? It doesn't mean you are actually on the dot; you do not have to touch it to be there.

It is actually difficult to explore most of the Chinese gardens in any systematic fashion. I usually try to walk around the perimeter first to get an overall view and then explore the central areas, but as you walk around there are so many photographic opportunities that you are pulled in many directions. There is a lot packed into a small area in most of the gardens, as the original designers were careful to make the most of the space they had, carefully designing pleasurable retreats and vistas from what was there. Carefully placed pavilions, towers and halls provide restful places to contemplate and enjoy the ponds, trees and flowers on the garden. The focal point of the Humble Administrator's Garden is a central lake with many little islands, now connected by bridges and paths. There are a number of raised areas, usually occupied by “towers” to increase the viewing pleasure out across the garden.

The Humble Administrator was certain busy naming all of the building throughout the garden. You have the “House of Sweet-smelling rice”, the “Far away looking Pavilion”, the “Hall of Distant Fragrance”, the “Listening to the Sound of Rain Pavilion” and the “good for Both Families Pavilion”. Oh, and under the “Hall of 36 Pair of Mandarin Ducks” there really are ducks, but I didn't count to see if all 36 were in attendance that day. There are over 30 beautiful buildings each with fanciful names like this around the garden, and most are open to the public at least to view. In many of them you can sit and think about why they were named as they were – most are pretty obvious.

There is a lot to see in the Humble Administrator's Garden. Alisha and I spent the better part of a morning there, and we could have spent longer but we only had a day and a half to explore Suzhou, so we kept moving. Many people do exactly the opposite; they come here to sit and relax in the incredibly peaceful and serene surroundings. That was probably why the Administrator built the garden; as a retreat from the bureaucratic rat race of the Ming Dynasty 500 years ago. No wonder he was humble with this to come home to after a busy day at the office.

A week after visiting this garden I met a young man from London England who only had two days in Suzhou and he asked my advice about what to see in only a day, and I suggested that this garden was probably the one attraction he should not miss. It is very well maintained and a beautiful place to spend a day just slowly wandering around. My advice is to take your time, stop and sit, smell the sweet rice, and enjoy the distant fragrances. This is a tourist attraction that is best viewed at a leisurely pace. Alisha and I were constantly finding things to take pictures of, and we enjoyed talking about different views and perspectives on things in the garden. It always amazes me how many times we both decide to take a picture of the same thing. The really interesting thing is to watch the other tourists then try to figure out what on earth we both found so interesting in that roof-line or the shadows created by something. They see us both taking a picture of something they figure it must be significant, but they look and look without seeing what we saw.

After spending a day in The Humble Administrator's Garden, I can highly recommend it. In fact All senior administrators should have a garden like this to come home to. I don't know if they would all be “humble”, but being able to sit and relax in a place like this couldn't help but make them better Administrators. What a place to sit and contemplate the problems of your school, your city or your country.

Tiger Hill - Doing the "tourist thing"

2009-05-05T07:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not much of a “touristy” tourist. If I read that something is THE place to visit in a city, I normally put it well down on my list of excursions. I just don't want to be go where all the other tourists go. In fact, often when telling locals about the places I have visited, I often get worried faces and expressions like “OHHHH we don't go there.”

It was like that here in China. I went shopping where the Chinese go shopping, and I wandered the same streets they did. Oh, I went to see the old historical part of Suzhou, and I went to the Bund in Shanghai, but I didn't go up in the Oriental Pearl Tower, and so far I had not visited any of Suzhou's famous gardens. Today however I gave in. The worn and very “Dog-eared” map I have been using to find my way around Suzhou, has on the cover a beautiful picture of Tiger Hill and a caption announcing “NO.1 sight of suzhou”, and a lot of the teachers I've been working with have also recommended this spot to me. I figured that on a Wednesday morning I might avoid the “tourists”, so I went to have a look. Of course in Suzhou, the “tourists” are mostly all just Chinese who are not from Suzhou. I'm not sure if the residents of Suzhou really consider me a tourist or not. I expect they just refer to me as “That crazy foreigner who takes pictures of doors.”

Tiger Hill isn't too hard to find. It is not far from the city centre, and considering that the part of Suzhou I have been living in is so flat, that the speed bumps are considered “hills”, this actual hill is pretty easy to spot. After locating it on my map, and using the excellent directions from the Teachers, I boarded the bus and was able to track my progress by watching the large leaning stone Pagoda on top of Tiger Hill grow larger out the bus window as I got closer.

It costs 60 YUAN admission, but it is worth it; there is a lot to see, and you can spend a better part of a day exploring the grounds. I do have one complaint, recommendation or observation however. Although the excellent signage around the grounds is all in English as well as Chinese, it really would have been useful to have an English brochure to follow. I was asked if I wanted an English guide, and I believe it was free, but I prefer to explore on my own, and the map on my ticket was only in Chinese. I've run into the same thing in the Tourist Information Centres – the sign over the door is in English, but do not expect to find any English information inside. I know there are not TOO many English tourists, but obviously if the signs and maps are in English, someone recognizes the need for it. It can;t be too hard to produce a few in English.

A large group of Chinese “tourists” were just entering the grounds at the same time as me, and as they all scrambled to get that perfect shot of the large Pagoda on top of the hill, I slipped quietly down a side path and started walking around the lovely paved walkways and forest paths around the base of the actual hill. I found a little pagoda hanging over the canal where I watched a woman cleaning out her mop across from the park. I walked through a lovely little Bamboo grove, and through I little tea house (I believe). I came upon a nice waterfall with a screaming little girl. I believe she was simply have a temper tantrum, because when her father pointed out that a very tall odd looking man with a beard was approaching, she shut up immediately. He probably threatened her with “The Hairy Scary Man” would get her if she didn't behave, but when I went up to her and said “Hello” and asked her why she was crying, she decided I wasn't so scary, and gladly shook my hand and posed for a lovely picture by the waterfall, giving me the obligatory “V” sign with her fingers – what is with that anyway?

After making my way all the way around the base of the hill, I started climbing up the paths and stairways to the top. As I climbed I came upon a museum of stone/rock sculptures, various houses and buildings all with interesting displays and explanations. I was fascinated by the different styles of carved wooden chairs in each building. There seemed to be a different style chair in each building. All through the park were beautiful gardens and peaceful areas to sit and just relax and contemplate life. I often saw people just sitting and reading, and some of the Teachers mentioned that they can purchase a “Garden Card” that gives then unlimited use of these attractions. I can see the value of this, as it would be a lovely place to visit just to have a peaceful place to relax.

Part way up the hill I came across a beautiful Bonsai garden with hundreds of potted trees displayed on pedestals. It was fascinating to see the many different trees trained and trimmed to beautiful shapes. You could see on many of the the wires forcing them into the desired shapes. This was probably my favourite part of Tiger Hill, and I spent an hour here all by myself wandering among the little trees admiring them. The bus load of Chinese tourists were obviously more interested in the pagoda, because I had the Bonsai garden almost completely to myself.

When I finally made it to the top of Tiger Hill, it was actually a bit anticlimactic. The large multi-storied pagoda is very spectacular, all made from stone and leaning slightly to one side, but it is closed to the public and you cannot climb it any more. The view from the top would have been speculator. I walked around taking a few shots from various angles, but it is actually quite difficult to take pictures of the pagoda because of all the trees around it. The nicest pictures are taken from other areas of the garden with the pagoda in the background. I should have realized that because that is exactly the shot displayed on the map that brought me here.

I enjoyed my visit to Tiger Hill, and now that I have seen how nice it is, I'm going to have to visit some of the other “Tourist” attractions around Suzhou to determine if Tiger Hill really is the 'No 1 sight of Suzhou”. I've heard that The Humble Administrator's Garden is lovely?

Doors of Suzhou

2009-04-26T04:04:00.000-07:00

I have tried to tell you something about what I have been doing since I have retired, and I've told you about my trip to Sao Paulo, my trip to Montreal, and now all my adventures in Suzhou, China, but now I'm just going to indulge in one of my favourite photo adventures. I love old doors. I notice doors that have seen better days, that have become worn with weather and use, that have been patched and repaired. I stop and take pictures of these doors. I often stop and focus on the old hinges or the worn and battered locks holding the doors shut.

I started this one March walking around Ottawa. I went out for a walk just to take pictures, and I started noticing how many different doors there were on the old houses around where my son lived. I photographed them, thinking about making a photo montage of them for him, but I never got to finishing that project. I took pictures of doors in Montreal, and in Sao Paulo, but then I hit Campeche Mexico. As a World Heritage Site, the building have to be maintained in their original historical condition, so the old town is a treasure trove of old doors. I took so many pictures of the doors there.

When I came to Suzhou so soon after Mexico, my interest in old doors continued and as I wander around the older parts of this city, I continue to shoot the doors. Now in Mexico, people looked at me sort of funny when I would bend down blocking he narrow sidewalks to take a picture of an interesting lock on a door, but here in Suzhou, they always look at me funny, so it is not big deal when I see the Chinese people looking at me with amazement in their eyes. I can imagine them saying to themselves “What is that crazy foreigner taking a picture of?

Oh well, Enjoy the old doors of Suzhou. Let me know if you like them and I'll post some of the wonderful doors I shot in Campeche.

And this is only a few of them!