July 12 and 13: Home Stretch

While I appreciated having a shower in a real bathroom and being able to charge all my electrical devices, I found that I much preferred sleeping in a tent to the motel. I woke partway through the night and, after lying in bed for an hour, got up and went for a walk along the dark, empty highway. Even though I was with my mom, tonight I felt lonely. I sat in the Jeep and meditated. As I finally returned to the motel room for a couple more hours of sleep, other guests were outside getting ready for an early departure.

When I did get up, I was committed to swimming in Lake Superior and doing some yoga before beginning our drive. I hadn't done any exercise the day before, and consequently found the time in the car more uncomfortable. An abandoned service station and a few cottages were across the highway from the motel. I trespassed through one unoccupied lot to find a big, beautiful stretch of sandy beach and the clean, clear waters of Lake Superior.

The sand under the water was rippled like the ocean shore. While the tidal action on Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg is minute -- only a few centimetres -- seiches create larger ebbs and flows. Paddling deeper into the enormous lake, I had to keep reminding myself that the water was fresh, not salty. The swim felt glorious.

I returned to shore and began yoga practice. Ouch. Ouch. Little flies bit my legs. I tried batting them away, but it interfered too much with the yoga. I tried ignoring them, thinking that the little bites only hurt for a nanosecond. I tried moving into the shallow water to escape them. Aaaagh! Finally, I gave up and retreated to collect my things. Insect repellent is apparently a pre-requisite for enjoying Ontario's great outdoors. Days later, my legs still itch and look like I have a mild case of measles.

Mom and I breakfasted at the Voyageur Cookhouse and continued our drive. When we were at Lake Winnipeg, I was surprised to see American white pelicans flying to their nests in the evening. Mom saw a small black bear disappearing into the bush soon after we entered Ontario. Since then, we've seen other wildlife, too: Racoon, deer, skunk, porcupine, beaver -- all lying in a dilapidated state on the highway. This may explain the abundance of turkey vultures.

We stopped for a picnic lunch in a village by Lake Huron, where I swam again, then pushed on towards North Bay. Again, rain descended through the late afternoon and evening. When we reached North Bay, I hoped to grab a quick drive-through meal and then find a campsite. Surprisingly, we could see very few fast food options from the highway. We followed the signs to downtown, but could only find one restaurant and a couple pizza delivery store fronts. It was dark, I was tired and got lost trying to find the highway again. We stopped and asked directions at a senior's home.

Back at the highway, we decided to get a room at the Travelodge and ask there about eating options. They directed us to Don Cherry's Sportsbar in a small stripmall next door. Many tiny towns on the prairies and in Ontario had signs proudly proclaiming them to be the home of some young professional hockey player, and the cafés often had news stories about these local heroes. How fittingly Canadian that our last supper on the road was eaten surrounded by photos of hockey stars of the past. Gordie Howe beamed down at us.

Again, I slept poorly indoors. I got up very early and finally did yoga practice in the hot, humid pool room. Mom and I showered, then went downstairs to eat. When we checked in we were told there was a hot breakfast. Hmm. This apparently referred to the the toaster for the bagels. Not what I envisioned. I am feeling grumpy and tired.

I'm sure that we did not see the best side of North Bay in our very short sojourn there. The next stop was Ottawa, and like horses nearing the barn we were eager to go. More rain drenched the roads, sometimes so heavily that I couldn't see the vehicles ahead. Traffic became denser, then slower. We were entering the first city we had driven through since Calgary! (Sorry, Regina. Your traffic just doesn't compare.) At 1:35, we turned off the highway (yippee!) into a residential neighborhood (phew!) and up to Karen and Salah's front door (sigh.)

I wish that I could say I was overjoyed to finally be here. What I was was exhausted. It felt good to get out of the Jeep. I devoured some left-over crepes for lunch, then lay down for a nap and a cry. I was overcome with nostalgia for the False Creek apartment I'd left in February, the last place that truly felt like home.

Somewhat rested, I recruited Mom and Karen into moving the contents of the U-Haul into the backyard shed. Initially we planned to just move some of it and leave the rest until Salah and Zachary (my nephew) were home to help, but when Karen realized how little there actually was, we plowed through and had everything unloaded by the time Salah arrived.

Salah guided me to the nearby U-Haul depot were the manager unhooked the empty trailer. For the first time in twelve days, the Jeep was free! The sixteen year old vehicle had clocked 304,477 kilometres pulling everything I owned across Canada, and never missed a beat. What a trooper.

Now the next chapter of this adventure begins. I don't know whether this will be my permanent home. It seems premature to commit that deeply. Really, the city and I have just started dating, so I'm thinking of Ottawa as my winter retreat.

Yesterday I had tea with a friend of a former client's who moved here from Vancouver three years ago, and had moved to Vancouver from Nova Scotia. Then I had dinner with a second cousin who moved to Vancouver for a job with the Olympic Committee, and moved back to Ottawa less than a year later. Both empathized with the challenges of making such a big move, both had great advice, and both said that they still think of Vancouver as another home, one to which they might return.

The downtown here is so completely different from any other city I've been in. There's an extensive area where an enormous stone building dominates each block -- government, hotels, consulates; all rather severe and intimidating. Then suddenly the streets break into lively stretches of restaurants, bars, cafés, and small shops in a hodgepodge of old and new. The Ottawa River marks the north edge of the city, backing the parliament buildings and marking the border with Quebec. The Rideau River and Canal cut up through the middle of the city, perpendicular to their larger cousin.

After a couple days' rest, I am enjoying being here and so appreciating being with my family. The weather is hot and humid, cicadas whine through the day and evening, there's a pool in the backyard -- it really feels like summer. A friend sent me the link to a graphic designer's rants that has had me in stitches (http://www.27bslash6.com/ -- warning: some rudity), and last night we watched a campy Canadian film called Invasion (it's original title was Top of the Food Chain) that was equally strange and hilarious. Laughter is good medicine. I feel ready for the adventure of getting to know my new home.

Next week: New York City!


Copyright © 2010 Lynn Thorsell, All rights reserved.