The Timmins Airport, Moonbeam and Kapuskasing

I slept the whole way to Timmins, closing my eyes before the plane took off and not opening them until the plane bumped down at about 10am. The perfect flight. Looking out the window I saw nothing but snow and pine trees covered with snow. With a yawn and a sigh, I zipped up my coat and headed into the wind and snow and across the tarmac and into the terminal. At the Bearskin Airlines counter (no.. I didn't make that up) the attendant informed me the flight was delayed, probably about an hour, and she would come and let me know when she had more details. I sat down in the coffee shop and ordered some breakfast at Boogy's Diner, regrettably the only food option available.

90 minutes later the agent strolled over to find me in the restaurant and explained the situation. Although the weather was clear in Timmins, all the regional airline's planes had been grounded or rerouted away from Sudbury, where my plane was needed to land before it could pick me up. The agent suggested I rent a car and make the 250 km drive to Kapuskasing, my final destination. With winter storm warnings all around the area I was almost relived when there were no cars available so I settled into the small, 50 year lounge, tried to get comfortable and waited and see what would happen..

What happened was I slowly went crazy over the next nine hours as I gracefully and with a smile was re-scheduled four time and had each flight cancelled, ate three coffee meals at Boogy's, wore out the batteries on all my electrical devices, listened to the life stories of three Bearskin attendants and learned the history of the local Placer Dome mine as depicted by muralist Ed Spehar on the wall of the airport lounge.

All this while weather deteriorated outside.

When the last possible flight out of Sudbury was cancelled at about 7:00pm the Bearskin attendant and I looked at each other and we both realized I was screwed. 'How about you call me a cab?' I suggested and was suprised when she said that was a possibility. Several phone calls later I was belingerantly demanding 'alternative or emergency ground transportation' under Section 12 of the airline charter, which the attendant had kindly supplied and highlited for me.

A half hour later, I'm throwing my bags in the trunk of a taxi, the driver not offering to help, perhaps in retribution for being forced to drive 250 kms north to Kapuskasing and back again at 8 in the evening. As we pulled out onto the deserted and snow covered highway the driver turned on the radio to a french talk program, this was my first hint that I was on my way to an almost entirely French speaking town. Over the next two and a half hours I heard the word 'Dieu' combined with waht I can only imagine was every conceivable swear word in the French language.

Hours of unlit highway cutting through the dark pine forests of northern Ontario followed. The cab's headlights illuminated massive snowflakes rushing towards us out the dark, creating a tunnel vision effect that I hoped wasn't affecting the driver's vision as much as mine. The road was getting more and more treacherous and I could feel the car sliding from side to side. The only other traffic we saw was massive trucks carrying heavy equipment and the occasional 18 wheeler. When they passed us the windows were instantly covered with thick heavy slush that shook the car on impact as the wipers struggled to keep even a small portion of the windows clean. The driver turned to me at one point and in broken english and hand gestures admitted he wasn't sure which side of the road he was on.

After many kilometers I could see a dim light way off in the vast darkness, blinkingly reminiscent of a lighthouse spotted from the sea. We were headed directly for it and for the next 20 minutes I watched the light grow stronger and as we got nearer I realized there were many lights and multi coloured. We got closer and closer and finally as we sped by I swear (in french by this point!) there was a spaceship sitting next to a sign that read MOONBEAM. Odd. Now I had had a long day and was tired and a bit loony from the day in the 'airport' but as I craned my head around and watched the lights recede behind us I was, indeed, sure I was looking at a spaceship. We pulled into Kapuskasing a half hour later and I contemplated asking the hotel receptionist about MOONBEAM but I didn't know the french translation forpaceship or stupid english city boy so I decided against it and went directly to my room and to bed.

I had doubted my sanity for a moment but was glad to find this proof the next day.. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moonbeam,_Ontario

Three days later, with work responsibilities taken care of and a few hours to kill before we flew out of town, my colleague T. and I went for breakfast at a quirky little bistro called 'Back to the Grind' and then got in the car for a 'blind' tour. After being in the small town for a couple of days we didn't expect to see much of interest but what we found was quite memorable. The town seemed to have something to look at on every corner (there aren't very many corners). Sculptures and public art and an insane Cristmas display keep us wandering around for almost an hour. There is a large park in town with walking paths and public areas, I'm sure its a beautiful park in the summer bounded by a lake and river on two sides but currently it was quite covered with Christmas displays of every imaginable type. Nativity scenes next to plastic snowmen, kitschy angels and multi coloured strands of lights. We wandered about for a bit giggling at the the displays and then headed for the airport.

The Bearskin plane was sitting outside the airport when we pulled in and as T. and I were two of only three passengers we took off as soon as the pilots got back from lunch. A short, bumpy 30 minute flight back to Timmins gave a great view of Kap and the surrounding area and made me realize exactly how isolated it is. I shuddered a bit walking back into Timmins Airport but was soon on a real airplane heading home.

I get to sleep in my own bed for a few weeks as I work close to home in downtown Toronto and will enjoy that immensely but as I write this thinking how glad I am to be home I from Kapuskasing I see the name Fort McMurray looming ominously on the calendar in a few short weeks.

Flashback to Betty's Bog

So I haven't had any interesting travels lately but feel the need to post something to keep in the habit of writing... The week I spent in Ottawa wasn't terribly interesting in terms of exploring. I did spend a couple of hours wandering around Parliament Hill one cold afternoon looking at sculptures, statues and monuments but having already spent so much time in that city I kept the exploring to just the one day. The week (aside from a bit of time spent working) was more about visiting with friends and colleagues in town.

I had travelled with J. several times in my previous position and when I let her know I was coming to town she agreed to keep me company. J took me for dinner to a local pub one night and a wine bar that was excellent another night. I miss the craziness of my old job sometimes and J gave me scoop on what had been going with that group. It was fun catching up and J is great company.

 After making it home for a few days I was back on the road to Cornwall.

 Where, you ask? Exactly.

 An hour west of Montreal and across the St Lawrence River from Vermont. I tried to write about the few days I spent in Cornwall but there isn't really much to say. They renovated the Pizza hut since the last time I was there but that hardly seems worthy of a blog post.

 So... I'm posting a story from last summer. It makes me chuckle when think about it now and suprisingly, I laughed at the time it happened as well.. beacause sometimes all you can is laugh.

 I had been cruising along country roads between Parry Sound and Bracebridge on a gorgeous fall afternoon with the tunes dialed was up and my arm hanging out the window. These were exactly the kind of days I had envisioned when I took the job. It didn't seem fair that I was getting a pretty good paycheck (plus mileage and expenses) to spend my days touring around the province and I took a moment to appreciate that as well as the great views, warm sun and punk rock blaring out of my car. Farmland had given way to wet forest and paved road to hard packed dirt and when my blackberry buzzed with a conference call reminder I pulled over and turned off the engine and dialed in.

It was a few minutes into the call when I noticed across the road a sign, hand painted and nailed to a tree, reading..

 "BEWARE BETTYS BOG".

 Strange, I thought.

 Almost spooky. I realized how dead and dreary the woods looked. Had it been dark it may almost have had a Blaire Witch Project feel to it. The conference call ended about 45 minutes later and I started the car and pressed the gas, the engive revved, the tires spun and rocks and mud flew past my open window- the car rocked gently. Hmm. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to see both tires sunk 4 inches into- wait for it....

BETTY'S BOG! I looked at both sides of the troad and see now plainly see the dark, miasmic, swampy, mucky bog. I was truly in some deep shit. Goddamn I thought, but started to grin a bit. I had been distracted by the somewhat ghostly overtones of the sign and the forest and hadn't realized the actual warning the sign was intended to provide. With my phone battery almost dead after the conferance call, and my gps having trouble maintaining a signal I managed to contact a local tow truck and convince him to come and help me out. Two hours and 75 bucks later I was back on the road, feeling 100% like the city boy that I am. Just another wicked day on the raod. Tomorrow I fly to Kapaskasing. Where, you ask? Exactly.

Cornerbrook, NFLD

Cornerbrook

An hour long stopover in Halifax was just long enough to grab a bowl of chowder and a bottle of Keiths at the restaurant in the airport and then I boarded the sixteen seat turbo prop for the 90 min flight to Deer Lake in NFLD. The smaller planes fly lower than the jetliners and with a clear sky most of the way I got a great view of Bay of Fundy and the mountains of NFLD. I had been developing a cold over the day or so and as we started to descend the pressure changes in my ears was extremely painful. The woman next to me must have thought I was nuts as I alternated sticking my fingers in my ears and plugging my nose and blowing as hard as I could to try to release the pressure. I looked at her and said ‘I hab a stubbed up nose’. She didn’t respond.

We bounced down into Deer Lake and walked across the tarmac in the start of a blizzard that would dump almost a meter of snow overnight and I would fight the wind throughout the 90 minute drive from Deer Lake to Cornerbrook as the road wove though the Marble Mountains. The single lane snow covered highway with steep climbs really made me wish I had upgraded my car to something larger... like a tank.

The scenery was breathtaking as I drove through the mountains, absolutely incredible, mindblowingly beautiful... this I was told after the fact. Snow and fog obscured any view that extended beyond a few meters in front of the car and I had white knuckled the steering wheel for the whole drive, thankful that the few other cars on the road were driving as cautiously as I wanted to.

I did make it to the hotel in Cornerbrook eventually, and to the Glynmill Inn, an almost 100 year old building that had been built to service the forestry industry at the turn of the last century. Rumours (the Inn's website) told of haunting of some of the rooms as well as the bar in the lower basement. I experienced no evidence of these haunting unless you count the wailing voice from the room next door that sounded ominously like Rita McNeil.

The restaurant at the hotel was certainly reminiscent of the last century, with ornate chandeliers, velvet-covered chairs and oil paint murals of hunting parties on the walls but the food was excellent. Lobster bisque followed by maple glazed salmon steak.

(Several bottles of wine were also on the tab, which the newest member of our team is now hoping her expense report is approved.)

Day Two is typically the day for exploring and this trip was no exception. I had about four hours to kill in town before I was due at work and I decided to do what I’ve come to refer to as ‘the blind tour.’ The blind tour means I just get in the car and start driving without goggling local interests or knowing what I might find. Today’s drive took me through town down narrow winding and hilly streets. It seemed that most streets were one way but the town had decided not to use signs to indicate this and my tour almost stopped (abruptly by way of collision with snow plow) before it started. In some places the snowbanks rose seven or eight feet at the side of the road making navigating even trickier. I picked my way through a residential area of what seemed to be mostly simple pre-fab housing and saw many roofs being shovelled off from last night’s snow. I pulled off the road at a public area that had trail signs but, as per usual, didn’t have the right footwear to explore further. (My parents have been suggesting to me for years to buy boots.. why don't I do this? ) I did have a good view of the town and realized that the town of Cornerbrook is nestled in a valley dominated by mountains on three sides with The Humber River running west eventually to the Gulf of St Lawrence. Back in the car I continued to drive the streets, mostly aimlessly but generally heading towards the water. The river was dominated for several kilometres by industrial buildings, lumber yards and abandoned buildings, very reminiscent of some of the Northern Ontario towns I’ve travelled to over the last few years. Eventually the area opened up and I found a driveway that let me get close to the river, which was definitely the coldest looking water I’d ever seen. Icy, slushy grey blue waves surged against the concrete pier against a backdrop of mountains and a waterway that opened up into the bay beyond. The view was quite amazing and I could imagine how stunning it would be in the summer or fall. My exploring continued as I drove along the coast for a half hour and passed signs for places named Indian Cove, Trout River, and Bonne Bay. The area was getting snowier as the road started looping back and up into the mountains that surround the area and as much as I wanted to continue I was worried about the rental car getting stuck somewhere so I turned around and let my GPS to take me back to town.

Coming back into Cornerbrook from the east this time I drove through what must have been the older area of town, it definitely had the feel of a fishing village with weather beaten wood buildings housing tackle shops, diners, and local craft shops. I spent my last free hour wandering (with a massive Newfoundlander dog constantly padding next me and drooling as I browsed) in an antique/thrift/book store called, most appropriately, Barnacles and Drift. Knickknacks relating to whaling and fishing mixed with locally knitted ‘sea-sweaters’ and iconic yellow rainhats.

Work took up most of the remainder of my time in Cornerbrook and with winter storm warnings getting more urgent and snow continuing to fall, the likelihood of getting stuck in town was increasing. I started the drive back through the mountains to the local airport in Deer Lake, this time in the company of two colleagues also heading back to Toronto. Shut out of a standby flight we gathered in the airport diner and sat watching the number of flight delays and cancellations get more frequent by the minute. After a few hours but we were boarded with a connection in Halifax for home. Although it was probably the roughest flight I’ve ever taken we bounced down in Halifax safely and raced to catch our connection. After a surprisingly brief delay we were airborne again and headed home.

Seated across the aisle from me was a quiet, bald, round headed guy that looked just like Carl Pilkington (from ‘The Ricky Gervais Show’). I smiled to myself at the likeness and forgot about it until he spoke to the stewardess later and I heard that familiar soft British voice. I was quite sure it was him. I decided to ask him and got up my nerve.

‘Is your name Carl?’ I asked leaning across the aisle.

‘No’

‘Are you sure?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sort of cleared his throat and went back to looking at the back of the seat in front of him fairly intently. I’m pretty sure he was lying, or mistaken.

Two hours later and we land in Toronto, unfortunately my luggage didn’t. My suitcase takes another three days to finish the trip. I wonder if Carl got his.

Exploring Vancouver

Vancouver

The 5 hour flight from Toronto was delayed an hour for de-icing and then we sat on the runway for another hour because of a backlog of flights waiting to leave so by the time we arrived in Vancouver and I picked up my luggage and found my rental car it had already been a long afternoon. Rolling down the windows as I pulled out of the garage and and into the warm Vancouver evening I was anything but tired, I had been looking forward to my first trip to the west coast and was anxious for my first sights of the city.I craned my head to see part of the city skyline as I passed over the Fraser River and then turned down Granville and headed downtown to my hotel.

I checked in and headed up to my home away from home for the next few days. The room had a small balcony that gave me a great view north of a sparkling line of condos and east towards the downtown core. Due to the time difference I had a few extra hours in the day and decided to hit the streets and explore at least far enough to find something to eat. From the hotel lobby I could see what turned out to be Robson Square, a public area with a skating rink. The area was under construction with many areas blocked off with caution tape but I wandered where I could and snapped some night time photos.

The next morning I met two colleagues at the hotel restaurant for breakfast where we made plans for the morning. Steve had spent time in the city and volunteered to take us on a tour down to the docks so we ate quickly and were on our way. We walked north through several blocks of high end retail shops, office towers and condos until we turned a corner and were stopped dead by our first glimpse of the mountains. The mountains! I had forgotten about the mountains. I had flown in after dark so I hadn’t seen them coming in and now they appeared before me and I stood with my eyes wide.

Holy shit that was something... majestic- I was totally gobsmacked by what I was looking at. We continued towards the water until we were looking across at an incredible vista that included the famous Lions Gate Bridge, the soaring trees of Stanley Park, those majestic Rocky Mountains and the mouth of the Fraser River. We continued along the waterfront, public spaces mixed with quaint shops and although the the soaring condos were omnipresent, as in any major waterfront city, they weren't a barrier to the waterfrount. Toronto would've been smart to visit Vancouver before we made such a mess of our waterfront. One amazing example of eco-building we saw was a massive convention/adventure center featureing a roof covered with growing grass. Steve had to head back as he was on-shift at noon while Lisa and I had until four so after walking back to the hotel we agreed the two of us would meet in a couple of hours to drive over to Stanley Park.

If I didn’t get to do anything else while I was in Vancouver I wanted to see the totem poles in Stanley Park. We pulled into the park after a short drive from the hotel and followed the road for a couple of kilometers until we could see them rising through the trees. Then we somehow got lost. Following one sign for parking took us right back to the entrance, on our second attempt and following a different sign we ended up at a utility shed. We then drove down a one way road until we got stopped by security so I decided to park where we were and we hiked about two kilometers through an amazing forest of massive trees to the site where the poles had been erected. The totems were very cool although having them all in one small roped off area made it seem a little to touristy.. seemingly removing some of the allure of the monuments. The weather was amazing, such a refreshing change from the dreariness of Ontario in February, so we continued our walk down to the water and spent some time looking at sea shells and the mountains on the horizon.

With the afternoon slipping away we hiked back to the car and started into town for our afternoon shifts. Driving crosstown we passed through what locals referred to as the ‘street of lost souls.’ Hastings St is a magnet for the homeless, the unemployed/underemployed, and the addicted. Literally hundreds of men and women clogged the sidewalks along the road, possessions piled in corners and shopping carts. It was a real counter balance to the beauty we had experienced earlier and sobered our thoughts as we headed to work.

The next day after work I wanted to take advantage of my last night in Vancouver. Most of the group I was working with had already scattered to their homes across the country so I headed out alone. I explored more of the city, this time wandering through areas containing clubs, the famous Orpheum Theatre, tattoo parlors and tourist shops. I walked for a couple hours and then stopped at a local, and very authentic Mexican restaurant for dinner. I headed back to the hotel where I ate on the balcony in a t-shirt and sampled some local beers. Relaxing later as the sun set I sighed at the thought of returning home the following day. I’ve spent time in dozens of towns and cities across the country and there have been many times that I’ve got the sense that no matter how long I was to spend in town I would never feel at home- but after just a few days I felt completely comfortable in Vancouver.

The flight out of the city and over the Rockies was absolutely astounding. The clouds and the snow and the water merging into some very surreal landscapes. I love flying because of the amazing scenery (shots of incredible cloud formations and brilliant sunsets take up many megs on my various computer drives) but I don't think I've ever seen such natural beauty as that ascent from Vancouver.

24 hours later and I'm stepping put of Pearson airport in Toronto and back into a typical night in February. Wind almost blows off my hat off and I curse, remembering my gloves packed away in my suitcase. It has snowed and the highway is down to one lane, creating a backup even after midnight. Welcome back to Toronto.

My next trip is across the country to Cornerbrook, NFLD. Here's hoping someone offers to 'screetch me in!'

Freezing in the'Peg

I stepped out of the Winnipeg Airport and into a winter evening like I had never experienced before. Snow blew sideways at a wicked pace, snowblasting my face and freezing my fingers. I felt like the typical southern Ontario idiot as I waded through knee high snowdrifts enroute to the rental car in my dress shoes, dragging my suitcase behind me.

The winter experience continued when I hit the roads in my rental with all-season tires. Winnipeg, like many of the northern Ontario towns that I have visited, doesn’t plow the roads or make use of ice melting salt and by middle of January the streets have risen to the height of the curbs with packed snow covering any visible lane markers. Wind swept snow covers most of the road signs and my GPS keeps losing the signal which adds a sense of sport to the challenge of navigating my way to the hotel, which I finally spot conveniently located on the other side of Portage Ave which is divided by a concrete meridian. After a driving a series of circles around the hotel which paid off by leading me past a Liquor Mart I made my way to the hotel parking garage the wrong way down a one way street. The hotel was a Best Western with tacky fishtanks in the elevators housing some of the saddest looking fish I’ve seen, and a cocktail lounge that could’ve been a set from ‘The Graduate’.

One of the things I like about the job I’m doing for the next year is that I’m travelling with a team. It pretty much sucks eating dinner by yourself in a hotel room, which I’ve done at least a hundred times in the last few years. Travelling solo has its rewards as well which is why I love hiking solo so passionately. Having to acquiesce to the wants of a group can be, at best, trying for me. The group choose the Keg for dinner and again, for at least the hundredth time, I ordered the zesty Ahi tuna. Limited choices for a vegetarian at a steakhouse...

I had a couple of hours free the next morning and decided I would brave the ridiculous cold and drive downtown and check out a bit of the city. I slid into the street in my 2011Dodge Avenger rental (love the Avenger and I feel like a superhero every time I get in it), tires spinning on the snow road, and headed down Portage Ave trying to guess how many lanes were on the road. 20 minutes later I was standing at the corner of the Portage and Main. I snapped a picture of the iconic intersection and sang Propaghandi tunes in my head as I shivered my way around the city. The ‘Peg ‘s main streets feature a mix of new and old and it looks like a rebirth of sorts in underway with generic retailers and chain hotels common to any city mixing with mom and pop restaurants, hand painted signs and century old buildings. As I wandered down some side-streets it didn’t take much imagination to picture the streets as they were generations ago.

The timing was great for the trip as I had just finished reading Pierre Berton’s novel about the Depression and the history of the city during those times was fresh in my mind. I could almost picture ‘tincanners’ on the corners and General Strikers carrying placards.

It was cold though... the wind was bitter and dry, sucking the moisture out of me. I have heard that it’s a different kind of cold in the west than what we experience in Ontario and it soon got the best of me, leaving my lips peeling and my dress shoe clad toes near frostbit. I spent less than an hour exploring downtown but I was glad I saw what I did. I have a feeling that re-development might destroy the part that I saw before long. I know there is a whole area developed at the ‘Forks’, restaurants and bars and trendy shops and I’m sure if I had longer, and it was warmer, I would’ve checked that out as well (a few summertime pints on a riverside patio can be a great way to spend time as well) .

So the next trip is to the west coast. Vancouver promises to be warmer and I can’t wait for an early taste of spring. See you there...