On the Road Again 2015 #17

The road heading north from Squamish looked to have fairly narrow shoulders but with a large grassy verge running alongside. It appeared as if there would be lots of room for a driver to stop. However, what was not a obvious was that there was a four inch drop between the pavement and the grass. Any driver who could see this drop off would be reluctant to pull over. With wet pavement and slippery grass - it could have been dangerous.  So I walked for a couple of hundred meters until the shoulder levelled out a bit.

It was still raining, I was still wet and cold. The cars were still going by just as fast, but at least I seemed to be getting splashed less frequently. I felt pretty miserable and I am sure I looked that way. It is hard to maintain a positive attitude when one's teeth are chattering. Not only was I wet right through, but I had lost much of the time advantage in taking the early bus. In fact it looked as if I was not going to get into Whistler much sooner than I would have if I had taken the Greyhound bus into Vancouver and made the connection to Whistler. If I had done that, I would have spent a long time on the bus but at least I would have been dry.

In spite of my bedraggled looks and the sad vibes that I was emanating, a car did stop for me. My driver, a women a few years younger than me, was just going up to Whistler for a lunch date. She had come all of the way from the Sunshine Coast to see an old friend. It is a short drive from Whistler to Squamish, but in that time we talked about her limited hitchhiking experiences,  managed to agree that the world needed to change its dietary habits, and that climate change was a serious problem. She was a nice lady and told me that she would have liked to have driven me further up the road but she was already late for her luncheon date. I was let off at the beginning of Whistler, a spot that we both knew was not a great place to start off from. While it was too bad that we couldn't have travelled further - I was glad to have met her. I wasn't much warmer or drier on the outside - but I was optimistic about the future - I knew I couldn't get any wetter or colder. If my first two drivers had been such great people - surely all the rest would be as well. I was right about the latter but wrong about the former.

It wasn't a great spot to stick out my thumb.  So I walked for a bit and never really found a better spot. I stood for a long time by the side of the road, The shoulders looked sandy and soft. In hindsight I should have realized that anyone local would have not wanted to pull over in case they got stuck. The shoulders were not really that soft - but from the highway they probably looked that way. A person with a French-Canadian accent walking by told me that no one ever got a ride there and I need to walk back towards the lights. I had been there an hour earlier and it had not looked like a great spot to me, but I trusted in the local wisdom and walked back. Within a few minutes I get a ride from a gentleman who offered to drive me to the other end of town. I didn't refuse.

It was a short ride and other than talking about the weather etc. there was not much time to get to know each other. While he didn't say so - I think he went a few kilometres out of his way- just to help me out. Three rides to travel 100 kilometres. I could tell it was going to be a long day.

My next two rides were just short rides. The first was to Pemberton. My driver was a young lady who was very interested in the local fauna and in the environment. She had already picked up another hitchhiker, a older gentleman from a local First Nations community. It was interesting to sit in the back seat and year him talk about how the weather patterns were changing, what we are doing to the earth and about the animals in the area. I was particularly interested in his description of "red coyotes" who he said were a cross between dogs, coyotes and wolves. From what he said, it appeared as if these animal were quite dangerous as they hunted in larger backs, were bigger than coyotes and had little fear of humans. That sounded like a bad combination. As so often happens - I wish I could have talked some more to these two folks.

My next drive, which happened fairly quickly, was to the Darcy Lake Road turnoff. My driver was an older , somewhat rough looking character driving a beat up car. He was, by his own words, a former addict. But, in spite of his appearance and manner, he was a considerate person who chose not to smoke in the car while I was with him. One should never judge a book by its cover. Even the roughest looking person can have, and in my experience does have, a heart just ready to give. He let me out at the corner - near the white church where I have stood so often before.

Refugees #2

In the past ten or so days, there has been an overwhelming, almost sickly sweet response to the picture of the three year old Syrian refugee who died in the attempt to achieve the safety of another country. All of a sudden the entire Northern Hemisphere is wallowing in someone else's grief, holding vigils, demanding some kind of action from their governments - wondering what the governments can do to solve this problem. The public response has been that of a group of people who just found out last week that hundreds of thousands of people are risking their lives to escape the chaos and oppression of their homeland. Where have all of those concerned world citizens been for the last two years? Under what rock have they been hiding?  I would not have thought that there was enough sand for so many people to burying their heads into.

The number and the desperation of the world's refugees is not a new problem. On May 17th of this year I wrote a blog about Canada's woefully poor response to the number of refugees. Previously to that on February 8th, 2014, I mentioned the number of people in Syria needing assistance. I discussed the issue at least two years ago in all my classes that I could figure out how to squeeze the topic into. I find myself almost offended that people are now getting on a band wagon that (1) should never have needed to exist and (2) should have left the station (to mix metaphors) a long time ago. For Canadian politicians to now say "oh - the government needs to do something", is the worse sort of political manipulation for votes.  We should all be embarrassed.

Where were all of those people two or three years ago. Why weren't people demanding their government accept more refugees into our country? Why did we accept the government's stance that it was doing all that it could, when in fact it was doing less than any previous government? How it all good conscience could we have accepted the sometimes blatant racist attitude that suggested that all people from the Middle East were potentially (and sometimes likely) terrorist? Why have so many of us, done so little to help? And why are we not doing something now?

It is a two prong problem. One is that the government expects the majority of refugees to be privately sponsored. That is, that collectively churches, and community groups need to raise sufficient funds to support individuals or families until they are on their feet. Secondly, the government retains the sole right to decide who can come to Canada and who can't. While it would appear from some reports that there are groups out there who are prepared and capable of supporting families, the Canadian Government has been woefully inadequate in screening applicants. Screening is a complex business when civil service staffing has been significantly reduced and when refugees who are escaping with only the clothes on their backs - frequently do not have clear proof as to who they say they are.

However the solution to the problem is not just to open our doors and accept everyone. The refugees from Syria and all of those other countries are needed by their countries to assist in the re-building process. The last thing those countries need is to have their most courageous and ambitious citizens to leave. While in the short term the only solution maybe to accept more refugees, we need to as a country and as a global community stop telling people how to run their lives and to start to provide real and meaningful assistance. For example - why is Canada's emergency response team (DART) not in the camps providing the technology so that all can have clean water? Yes it would be expensive - but not as expensive as sending six jets to bomb buildings and the people in them. Why are we not sending over the resources and skills so that there can be more teacher training? Why are we, instead of bombing, not helping people develop the resources to resist the voices of terrorists. Those voices are only attractive because there appear to be no alternatives. Surely the greatest gift we can give is the belief that there are alternatives and the tools to make it happen.

And finally, and perhaps most radically - why don't we cancel Christmas this year? According the Globe and Mail, the average Canadian anticipated spending $1800 on Christmas in 2013. Other sources such as the Star suggested that it would only be half of that in 2014. Regardless of which is the right number - it is a lot of money. Let's not buy presents - especially for anyone over the age of 16-18. Let's not plan Christmas vacation to a warmer climate or to go skiing. Let's plan on giving that money to organizations who have the capacity to support refugees if they come to Canada; let's give money to people who live and work in the Middle East, people who know the needs of the people who live there. Let's stop listening to those people whose primary interest is in making money, enhancing their status or maintaining their jobs.

On the Road Again 2015 #16

I was in no rush as I got off the ferry. From my reading of the bus schedule to Lion's Bay, I had at least an hour to waste. Which was fine by me..... it would give me time to get myself psychologically adjusted to being on the road again. The downside of this hour's wait was that it had started to rain. I was not that happy about getting wet before I even started the trip. I need not have worried about getting a little bit wet.

I had read the bus schedule wrong - there was a bus going the short distance to Lion's Bay at 8:25, an hour earlier than I thought.  I was really excited to be getting my trip off to an early start. The bus driver, however, was particularly helpful. When I asked if he knew of some good hitchhiking spots along the way - the answer was a blunt "no". I could in part understand his answer. While there were a few wider spots in the shoulder - none of them looked that safe to me.  I stayed on the bus as far north as it went in part because it was, by that time, raining so hard that the bus's windshield wipers could not keep the windows clear.  When the driver informed me that the next stop was the last stop, I hoisted my bag onto one shoulder and prepared to enter the deluge.

After getting off the bus, I walked a couple of hundred meters back to the highway. Fortunately along the way, I had to go under an underpass where it was dry. I put on the pack's nylon, supposedly waterproof cover, took my fleece and my raincoat out of my pack, put them one and trudged into the windy, wet and just generally miserable weather. It was wretched. The wind was nasty, driving the rain into the crevices between the coat and my neck. Within minutes my pants were wet and within half an hour the money in my wallet was wet. I took off my glasses and stuck them into the front pocket of my shirt. There was no point wearing them - they were so wet that I could not see out of them. There were pools of water on the highway - a highway that generally goes up - there was just nowhere left for the water to run to. Cars zipping by me splashed me, trucks going by me drenched me. I am not sure if the vast majority of cars could even see me. It was raining that hard. I would have gone back to the underpass to get away from the rain if I had thought that there was slightest possibility that it would clear up in the next hour or so. But as I looked over the ocean, all I could see was more and more cloud being pushed down upon the mountain (and therefore me). It was about that point that I considered e-mailing Noah and asking for a reservation on the Ark.

If I had been driving by I am not too sure if I would have stopped for me. The sight lines were not great, there was a limited space in which to stop and I was wet enough to soak a seat. Plus my pack was probably so wet that where ever it was placed - that seat would have been saturated with water as well. But after well over an hour and a half of standing there - not knowing what else to do - being buffeted by winds that almost bowled me over - a van did stop. My first driver of the return trip home got out of his vehicle, made room for my pack in the back of his van and we were off. He was only going as far as Squamish - just a short hop away but I would have been grateful for a ride only half as long. He was a house painter and in the short time together we talked about Squamish, how it was expanding (he had as much work as he could handle) and what those changes meant for the community. Near the end of our 30-40 minutes together he pulled into a parking lot and said he was just going to get some coffee. I stayed in the van - I was so cold that I could not stop shaking. I saw no point in getting out just so that I could get wetter and colder. He came back with two cups of coffee- one was for me. I was grateful. I am not a coffee drinker - not unless I need to stay awake, but having something warm in my hands was quite delightful. The generosity of this driver was just the first in what would prove to be a long list of people who gave, or at least offered to give me things they thought I needed.

He drove me to the far end of Squamish and let me out. I had never tried to hitch with a coffee cup but I did not want to leave it behind; I didn't want him to think I was ungrateful - so I brought it with me. It proved to be awkward to carry and so I poured out the coffee and stuck the empty cup in my pack.

On the Road Again 2015 #15

It is hard to write a blog when one is on the road and has limited access to the internet. It is can be frustrating to want to write and to not be able to.

My son, along with his wife and two kids kindly once again drove me to Nanaimo. We walked around for a bit, the kids played in the park, we watched people trying to catch crabs and then had a nice late lunch or early supper. Unfortunately it was cloudy and threatening to rain for much of the afternoon. It was a portend of what I could expect the first day of my trip. Nanaimo is an interesting town. They have done a great job on their waterfront area. Unfortunately, the town is so stretched out along the highway that without a car, one can not see it all without a car. Even the walk from the park to the restaurant would have been tiring for a three year old.

My son and I have ever been good at saying good bye. I am not  too sure why. While this time leaving was perhaps not quite so traumatic for me as usual - it was hard. My son and I did no better saying good bye or talking about how we felt this time than any other time. I suspect we will never master that particular skill.

The hostel on Nicol Street in Nanaimo was great. It is a rather deceivingly large house that had lots of rooms and surprisingly, a large lot (for a city) that one could wander around on. While there were other people staying there, they were either in their room or out and about. I had the nice living room to myself. I was content to spend my evening reading. I didn't go out except to look for a Bank of Montreal. There were no branches downtown and so I had to pay $2.00 for the pleasure of withdrawing my money from an ATM.

A number of people came in after me. None of the 6-7 people had cash on them so they all had to go to the closest ATM to get some. The owner of the hostel appears to not like using technology. Usually one needs a  MasterCard number to reserve a room and  one does reservations all on line. For the Nicol Street hostel, I had to telephone the hostel and confirm that there would be room for me. The last person who came in around 9:30, didn't have access to his ATM until the following morning. The operator wouldn't let him stay. It was also the first hostel I have been in where it was suggested to the woman in the "female" dorm that they lock their door - just in case.

In spite of all of the coming and going, I had a four bed room to myself. The mattress was a bit thin, but the bunk beds were made of wood and therefore there was no squeaking or shifting of the frame. Having a room to myself meant that the next morning I didn't need to feel bad about my alarm clock going off or the noise I would make in getting my stuff together. It was a nice hostel - not quite as luxurious as that one I usually stay in (and which had increased their rates) - but it met my needs perfectly.

The next morning I was up by 5:00 and outside waiting for the taxi that I had arranged the night before. I got to the ferry terminal in good time to catch the first ferry of the day. There were no problems with the passage and I was on the mainland by just before 8:00.

I love it when a plan all comes together.

On the Road Again 2015 #14

It is Sunday. Today I am leaving for central Canada. It will be my usual slow start. A drive to Nanaimo at some point today, a stay at a hostel over night and then catching the first ferry to the mainland tomorrow morning. In the past few years I have taken a Greyhound bus from the ferry to Whistler because hitchhiking from the terminal area looked to be almost impossible. There are no shoulders to stand on, no where for a car to stop safely. As well, once the chaotic ferry traffic has left the area, there would be very few cars heading up the Sea to Sky highway. While the strategy of catching a bus had the advantage of me getting easily to Whistler, it did mean that I had to wait outside the terminal for a few hours for the bus. I never got to Whistler until well after 12:00 PM. Greyhound is no longer operating that particular bus. I will have to take a local bus that only goes up the highway for 10 kilometers or so to a town called Lions Bay. I am hoping that if there is a turn off for a town, there will be a safe place to stand.  I will be on the road far earlier than normal, but starting at a point much further south than usual. It could be interesting and hopefully fun.

It has been, from one aspect, a long summer. I left home on the 25th or 26th of June (with a short stop over in Sudbury), and I got here on July 1st. I am not too sure where the time has gone. I have spent almost two more weeks on the islands than normal, done a few things that I have not done before (including showing my daughter and her two children around  a few parts of the island and looking for houses to buy) and generally had a really pleasant time. But it was, as usual not long enough. However whether I am visiting here or Sudbury, my stays will never be long enough.

I know that once I am on my own in Nanaimo, I will be okay - but right now I am a little bit sad and filled with that sense of apprehension that always proceeds a trip. There seems to have been a few more serious accidents along the Trans- Canada than usual - or at least more have been reported. I always, before starting a trip think about the possibility of being in an accident. Never once I start, but always before.

My bags are backed, the box that I am mailing back is sealed and ready to be mailed.... I guess I am off. Wondering and occasionally dreaming about that magical ride(s) that will get me here to there; wondering who will pick me up, where I will sleep and how long it will take me.On the road #14

It is Sunday. Today I am leaving for central Canada. It will be my usual slow start. A drive to Nanaimo at some point today, a stay at a hostel over night and then catching the first ferry to the mainland tomorrow morning. In the past few years I have taken a Greyhound bus from the ferry to Whistler because hitchhiking from the terminal area looked to be almost impossible. There are no shoulders to stand on. As well, once the chaotic ferry traffic has left the area, there would be very few cars heading up the Sea to Sky highway. While the strategy of catching a bus had the advantage of me getting easily to Whistler, it did mean that I had to wait outside the terminal for a few hours for the bus. I never got to Whistler until well after 12:00 PM. Greyhound is no longer operating that particular bus. I will have to take a local bus that only goes up the highway for 10 kilometers or so to a town called Lions Bay. I am hoping that if there is a turn off for a town, there will be a safe place to stand.  I will be on the road far earlier than normal, but starting at a point much further south than usual. It could be interesting and hopefully fun.

It has been, from one aspect, a long summer. I left home on the 25th or 26th of June (with a short stop over in Sudbury), and I got here on July 1st. I am not too sure where the time has gone. I have spent almost two more weeks on the islands than normal, done a few things that I have not done before (including showing my daughter and her two children around  a few parts of the island and looking for houses to buy) and generally had a really pleasant time. But it was, as usual not long enough. However whether I am visiting here or Sudbury, my stays will never be long enough.

I know that once I am on my own in Nanaimo, I will be okay - but right now I am a little bit sad and filled with that sense of apprehension that always proceeds a trip. There seems to have been a few more serious accidents along the Trans- Canada than usual - or at least more have been reported. I always, before starting a trip think about the possibility of being in an accident. Never once I start, but always before.

My bags are backed, the box that I am mailing back is sealed and ready to be mailed.... I guess I am off. Wondering and occasionally dreaming about that magical ride(s) that will get me here to there; wondering who will pick me up, where I will sleep and how long it will take me.

Moving On #3

Duncan, at first glance, is a much more likely place to move to. The weather, while it is quite frequently grey and gloomy for what feels like months on end, is also rather glorious for even more months of the year. During the warm months there is very little humidity. No matter how hot it is during the day, by evening it generally cools down. The range of temperatures is, as compared to central Canada, fairly small. Temperatures in Duncan on average only fluctuate 35 degrees in a whole year (-6 to 30 degrees Celsius). Ontario's temperatures can fluctuate 25 degrees within a week. And no matter how wet it gets in Duncan - seldom does one have to shovel the stuff!

The housing costs in Duncan are very comparable to cities in Ontario. While I have not seen the insides of any two bedroom apartments, it appears as if $800-900 can get one a  reasonable two bedroom apartment - about the same cost as Ontario. Duncan also has a vibrant social and cultural life. There are number of open air markets in the area, there is a lot of home grown music, and if there are fewer (and less varied) restaurants in the area, there are certainly sufficient for my needs. People are more relaxed/friendly (in part I have argued because of the more benign weather). They are, for example, more likely to talk to you on the bus.

But there are no seasons here. Because there are far fewer hardwood trees on the West Coast, the fall colours are significantly less glorious. Summer sort of seems to slip into the rainy season they call winter which by February slowly evolves into summer.There is no mad celebration of spring after a winter of fighting the cold, of wearing boots and mitts and hats, of shoveling the snow from the end of the driveway or getting into a car with the vinyl seats so cold that the heat is sucked from your flesh. One wonders if the various equinoxes and solstices of the northern climates that mark either the leaving or the return of the sun were ever as important to celebrate in warmer climates when the seasons have less impact upon daily life.

The cost of living here is higher. Food is substantially more expensive, in part because so much of it is shipped across the strait by ferry, but also because there is so little competition. Duncan has three reasonably large grocery stores. All three stores in Peterborough would be seen as reasonably high end stores. There are no low frills/budget grocery stores in Duncan or anywhere else on the island.  People just seem to accept the high cost of food as being normal. The cost of getting around is also more. Gas is more expensive and if one wants to visit any where off island - the cost of the ferry makes one hesitate.

Moving to B.C. also means switching health care systems, car insurance and getting a new driver's licence. It means having to learn how the civil service/bureaucracy works. It means that my fairly comprehensive knowledge of how the courts and the social service system operates in Ontario will no longer be useful to me or anyone else. Moving means that I lose contact with some people that I have known for much of my adult life. Moving away from Ontario means that I will no longer see the hills, the river and the lakes that have shaped so much of who and what I am.

While it would be fun to watch my two youngest grandchildren grow up, and to see how they evolve ( and perhaps they need my attention more), it is unlikely that my son would commit as much energy to watching out for me as would my daughter. I suspect I would have to work harder to remain connected.

There are so many things to consider about moving. I know I have to move. I know that I will move. I suspect that whatever decision  I make - part of me will feel that it was the wrong one.

Moving On #2

There are only two options for me in terms of living closer to my adult children. Well actually there are three, but the third choice is not, more the pity, mine to make. One of my two kids could decide to move to where the other lives. Then, while I would still have to move, the choice as to where I moved would be obvious. However the possibility of my daughter moving west or my son moving east is so far removed from reality that all of us living in the land of Oz is more likely. Of course they could both move to a central point, but none of us have a desire to move to Winnipeg.

My two choices are Sudbury, Ontario and Duncan, BC. While I suspect that most people would assume that where I wanted to live out the rest of my life would be a no brainer; that any one in their right mind would prefer to live in Duncan as opposed to Sudbury. But they would be wrong.

Sudbury has a number of attractive aspects to it. It is not the dreary, scrag covered hillside,  moonscaped town it use to be. In 1972, Inco built a new refinery smoke stack. That ensured that the toxic sulfur dioxide would no longer rain upon the ground and thereby upset the pH balance of the local lakes and destroy the vegetation (the fact that those same pollutants fall somewhere else doesn't seem to bother anyone in Sudbury). Sudbury has, in the last 40 years or so, turned into a reasonably attractive city. Nothing can hide the fact that the city is built on solid rock. There are streets that twist in strange directions to avoid a sudden upthrust of rock) and there are rows of houses that look as if they are perched, somewhat insecurely on the hard, dark nickel bearing rock.

The weather may be Sudbury's biggest downside. Winter can be cold, there can be lots of snow and in general it lasts for months and months. The blackflies and mosquitoes are present for what feels like an almost an equal number of months.

There is not much of a downtown core. It is not for the lack of trying, There are restaurants, a few stores and lots of offices. I think people would like to make their downtown attractive but the buildings even when they were new, were at best, uninspired designs. Thirty or forty years of pollution later, the buildings are tired looking, dirty and quite frankly rather unwelcoming. The retail side of a vibrant downtown core has either gone out of business or has moved to one of the numerous strip malls or large indoor malls scattered well away from downtown. But on the side streets there is a glimmer of hope, a sense that things could be changing; that there are entrepreneurs who are innovative and creative; who are prepared to try something new. It could be interesting to see that process unfold.

Sudbury does have beautiful lakes, including the one at the center of the city. There is a great science center, lots of shopping, good music including some great concerts, some decent restaurants and a vibrant multicultural life for those of middle or Eastern European heritage. While their Saturday market is not large, it has some potential. The people that I have met seem to be kind, friendly people.  The hills are now  covered with grasses and small birch and popular trees. One hopes that in a hundred years much of the majesty that must have been Sudbury might be returned. There is much to look at and enjoy. If one likes the outdoors - it is perfect place to live.

Most importantly, my daughter and two of my grandchildren live there.  The kids have been a joy to watch grow up. It would be great fun to live closer to them and to be able to cheer them on as they play their sports and become the wise and capable adults I know they will become. My daughter has always been a great daughter, a wonderful teacher and even a better friend. I can't imagine a better person to support me in my elder years.

Sudbury, while it is not the ideal place has much that attracts me.