Glad I wasn't on this flight

Picture this.

You're flying on a business trip, and your plane is going to touch down in a half hour. Up front, the cockpit door opens, and the familiar whirs of the engine are audible for a second. The pilot steps out, goes into the washroom. You look back down into your Report On Business magazine.

A few minutes later, you look up momentarily as the pilot steps out of the washroom. Not a minute too soon, you think, wondering why he chose the last minute to go to the washroom. Doesn't he have to land the plane?

The pilot jiggles the handle on the door, and you look up again, puzzled. The pilot jiggles the handle some more. A bit desperate he jiggles it a little violently. Now he's shouting back and forth with the remaining flight crew inside the flight deck, and your plane has to land in twenty five minutes....

Bon Echo

Near the turn of the century, a woman named Flora McDonald Dennison bought a wilderness property and a retreat lodge from a doctor, and turned her newly acquired paradise into a retreat for Canada's nascent artistic community, which included the "group of seven" who, inspired by Tom Tompson, would essentially invent Canada's distinct style of northern artwork.

Directly across from her lodge was a mile long cliff that justs up from the deep floor of Lake Mazinaw. The cliff was a creation of plate tektonics, and was covered in native pictographs - the highest concentration of them anywhere. Very fond of the American poet Walt Whitman, she named one of the rock faces of the Mazinaw cliffs "Old Walt", and carved a huge inscription into it, dedicating the rock to " the democratic ideals" of Walt Whitman, and quoted one of his poems.

We arrived at the park without my brother in law, who had headed home because he had to work the next day. (He lives only forty five minutes away from Bon Echo, so we hoped he would visit us after work.) Lake Mazinaw is the deepest lake in Ontario outside of the great lakes, nearly five hundred feet deep. So naturally I had to swim there. At the beach by the old lodge (which burnt down in the thirties and was replaced by a stand of red pine), I took my daughter out from the edge of the beach, riding on my back, and said, "Go under water, and look down!"

"AAAH!!" She said, peering into the complete blackness.

I also went kayaking, as did my niece and daughter. The water was quite rough, especially in the channel between upper and lower Mazinaw. Mindful of Tom Tompson's grim end, I was a bit nervous, but I kayaked over to the face of Old Walt, and saw the big inscription for myself.

The next day, we took the boat tour, and saw the pictographs, which I had not been able to find... and we saw Nanabush, or "trickster" as he is sometimes known, a shapeshifting spirit reputed to be sent to test people. My niece's baby girl had a Nanabush doll, which she vigorously chewed on the whole time we were there. I'd say it was Nanabush being tested, personally.

Headin' south

Having done our time at Lake Superior, it was time to head back. My brother in law headed out first, and we never caught up to him. As we came near to Georgian Bay, I suggested we go down that route. "All the provincial parks are there," I said.

"If we get split up, we have to stick to the plan," My wife said.

"But we don't have a plan!" I protested.

However I was surrounded by like-minded women, so straight across we went, continuing on the Trans-Canada Highway towards North Bay. When we crossed Sudbury, the devastated forests had an eerie look to them; years of nickel smelting had turned the whole area into a wasteland of sickly and broken birch trees. Almost no other trees could be seen. But it nonetheless looked pretty in a strange way, and we passed some rocky scrub that looked like good hiking spots. But the further east we got, the vegetation became the familiar vegetation of home - Eastern Ontario.

 Our timelines were similar to the trip to Superior, so we ended up in Sturgeon Falls, having never caught up with my brother in law (it would turn out he went down Georgian Bay because all the provincial parks are there, just as I'd supposed.) There are no provincial parks on Lake Nippissing, but I had been looking up campgrounds, and when we got there, my sister in law asked a gas station attendant about them. We got directions to a place called Cache Bay, and found a delightful, inexpensive campground with a french-accented owner.

Nippissing appears to be a shallow lake, and looks a lot like glades down south. In this particular spot, a long, narrow peninsula full of leafy trees and willows stretched out onto the water; it looked like some long forgotten scene out of my childhood imagination - some Lousiana bayou. The owner sold me some of the most inexpensive firewood I've ever bought in a campground, and we started a bright campfire. I played my guitar, and we stared up at the Eastern Ontario night sky.  As much as I love visiting far away places and wonder at everything these spots have, I have never seen a night sky like the ones in the countryside around here - the sky is like a planetarium, or some kind of panoramic telescope into the deepest universe. Stars, stars, and more stars... and every wispy cloud of the Sagittarius arm of the galaxy. The night was warmer too - the warm, humid nights of home.

Next... we make it to Bon Echo... and find out what happened to my brother in law.

On to Lake Superior

Shortly after leaving Sturgeon Falls that afternoon, the engine temperature light went off in our station wagon. That's why we stayed in Sturgeon Falls, as our plan had been to hit Sudbury, and meet up at Science North. But there is a Ford dealership in Sturgeon Falls, so we were all underway the next day, although our beloved Bob (that's what my wife and I named our wagon when we bought it) was a couple of hours behind. I ended up in my niece's car for this day's journey.

So on we went, past Lake Huron and the Sault, and we were upon it: the coastal highway (that's what they call the stretch of Highway 17 that overlooks the lake.) It is - in a word - breathtaking. The only other roadway I've ever seen like it is the Cabot Trail. Who knew? Ontario is many things, but I didn't realize that there was spectacular breathtaking beauty - the sort of show-off beauty that Nova Scotia and British Columbia have on their coastlines.

But we had it, too - the road traveled up and down a coastal mountain range, and down below were rocky islands, beaches, and water, water... clear blue water way out to the horizon. Tall and stately pines graced the other side of the road. There were times when I wondered if we'd made a wrong turn and actually gone to the Cabot trail!

The girls and I set up camp, waiting for the other adults. First came my brother in law on the bike (along with the dog), and then my wife and my sister in law. I laughed - I knew they'd eyed the tourist trap we'd seen on the way in.

That night we walked on the beach to the sunset. It was spectacular. The beach was covered with the most beautiful and varied rocks I'd ever seen... well, since my childhood. I vividly remembered the rocks on this beach from when I was ten.

In the morning, we went to Agawa rock along the coastal hiking trail, and looked at the pictographs. The picture below is my daughter standing next to the clearest pictograph I have ever seen. Portrayed is Misshepezhieu, the sea god who the local natives believed would protect those in canoes, and who could be invoked to change the weather. Signs at the site warn you to be careful - people have been swept off the site by Superior's huge waves and killed you are graphically warned. Pictures of Agawa rock confirmed the real possibility of that ( a scene that showed waves striking right where we stood.)

That afternoon my wife and the other ladies went to the craft boutique they'd seen en route the day before. My brother in law and I hiked with the dogs to the Agawa river. We admired the group camp sites, thinking we could gather our whole clan there.

In the evening, I cooked hamburgers and we brought them to the beach. We drank wine and watched the sun set over the flat and calm water. The Lake Superior web site warns that "only the hardiest swimmers" brave Lake Superior. My daughter and I are definitely among the hardiest swimmers, and we were in like dirty shirts. If anything, the water is even clearer on Agawa beach than at my parents - but the water is fresh, with not a hint of salt. It is a strange and wonderful feeling to swim in such an ocean-like place with no salt taste to the water, no jellyfish to try not to step on.

Though the days are warm and not, the nights in Northern Ontario are cold, so we kept close to one another. And in the morning, I went down to the beach before anyone else woke up. The sky was clear, clear and blue. The moon hovered in the blue sky over Montreal island directly out in front of me. The water was like glass, and the mountains rose on each side of Agawa bay.

In short, this was a postcard. A real live postcard, and I was in it. I wordlessly thanked God for letting me be not just witness to it, but in it. I dove in the water, and underwater the sun sparkled down through the clear water onto the rocks. I could have wept for the beauty. But it was time to go.

Next.... our time at Bon Echo provincial park.

I know, I know... where was I?

Well.... it has been a while, hasn't it?

We got back from vacation about a week ago. My daughter's addiction to Furcadia, a busy work schedule, and a crippling toothache have prevented me from getting to this sooner. So what has happened with me in the last month or so?

Well we went on vacation. Like our more fun trips, this one was a road trip, taken with my sister and law, my niece and her new baby, and brother in law and his dog. He and I huddled in front of the computer for the day or two before going, using Google Maps, the Ontario Parks site, and freetrip.com to plan our route. He would be going on his Harley, we'd be in our Ford Focus, and his daughter would drive the 4x4, with my daughter as her navigator.

 

Where we were headed

On the first day, we saddled up and got out the door quickly. My brother in law put the doggie goggles on his dog, and... well, you had to see the look on the face of pedestrians in every town we went through. The double takes were priceless.

North-eastern Ontario is a beautiful and forlorn place. You pass through towns with beautiful cliffs and landscapes, and you wonder why you've never heard of them. But the truth is, nobody has heard of them - they are several highways and roadways away from any major city. As we got further along, we had a decision to make - straight across to Highway eleven? Or up through Algonquin park?

In a spirit of adventure, we went up through Algonquin Park. Keep in mind what this place is... a wilderness so huge that it is the size of a small state or province. (It is actually twice the size of Rhode Island, and also bigger than Prince Edward Island.) We passed by lake after lake in this idyllic paradise, kind of wishing we could stop. But we were headed for another idyllic paradise.

Our first day, we were aiming for Sudbury. But it was a long trip, and we would come up short.

 We rounded the shores of Lake Nipissing, and I stared out at this slightly less than great lake. I had always wondered how big a lake had to be to look like the ocean - I knew the Great lakes were bigger than such a lake needed to be. I knew from maps that Nipissing was big, much bigger than most fishing lakes. And as we looked out, I had my answer. You could see the other side width-wise... although the other side was distant like ocean-going passages I've seen, such as the St. Lawrence or the Straits of Georgia. But lengthwise, you could not see the other side, and indeed it looked like the sea. I've often wondered in fact if the early explorers looking for their route to India thought perhaps they had reached the sought for sea - they must have as they hit the shores of many of Canada's deceptively large lakes, and until they tasted the water.

At any rate, Sudbury was out of reach - we knew that . So we stopped in a wonderfully quaint French Canadian town on the shores of Lake Nippissing - Sturgeon Falls. We planned to camp our way around the province, but this one night (the only night) we stayed in a hotel.

Most of the restaurants were closed, but we found a pub slash pool hall that was open, which was part submarine shop, part pizza parlour. In fact, this place's schizophrenia was so complete that they had totally separate menus for each facet of its personality. Before we got there, my brother in law was a bit nervous... he thought it would be a bar, basically. But it turned out to be a friendly looking place. And I was happy... they had a smoked meat sub!

(to be continued... my account of reaching Lake Superior - with pictures.)

Why so many entries

Someone reading might notice I've been flooding the blog with posts of late. Why? Think of it as watering the plants twice before going on vacation.

Yes, this weekend, we're headed off for two weeks of fun. First family camp on the island again, and then we're going to travel around Lake Superior. I haven't been since I was a boy. Now if you've never seen the Great Lakes, they aren't lakes at all. They are freshwater seas.... you cannot see the other side, the surf comes pounding in, and they even have a kind of tide called a seiche. The shores are rocky, there are lighthouses all about, and large seagoing vessels pass on the horizon.

I've been told that Lake Superior has some of the best "seaside" drives in North America. So we're going to go find out.

Glad I took out that garbage this morning

Apparently Internet users don't do their chores. The Globe and Mail reports that non-Internet users spend more time socializing, doing chores, and even thinking than the heaviest Internet users.

I'm sure glad I took out the garbage this morning. :-)

That great concert metropolis - Regina

I was born in a place called Regina, Saskatchewan. It is a pretty little prairie town that stretches around a small lake called Lake Wascana. But it is quite little. There are neighbourhoods in Ottawa with a few block radius that have a larger population. And Ottawa itself is not exactly vast.

But somehow, this small town supports a pro football team, a thing even Ottawa hasn't been able to manage in the last twenty years. And now it is supporting not one - but two Rolling Stones concerts in October.

We only managed one last year, here in Ottawa.

Personally, I wasn't able to wait that long. I went all the way to Toronto to see them on the Steel Wheels tour, back in 1989 or so. In fact, when they played Ottawa last year, I was singing folk songs in church (and the Stones made the parking nigh impossible.)

And my singing folk hymns in church instead of rocking out at Lansdowne Park either marks me as faith filled, or just old. :-)

My GrMr FiNe Tk U ;-) LOL

A University of Toronto study has found that teenagers who use Instant Messaging tools like AIM or MSN Messenger are not having their linguistic skills degraded by the experience.

Glad to set U straight on that, LOL!

Qana Happened

Lately, I've been reading bloggers who claim that Qana never really happened or was staged. Now whether one is fully behind this war or not, I think some facts are going to have to be faced here. In a Washington Post blog entry about such bloggers, Jefferson Morley makes abundantly clear that overwhelming evidence exists that Qana did happen.

It is a disturbing pattern of denial that surfaced in the Iraq war as well. When Abu Ghraib was revealed, some commentators compared it to a football hazing ritual, or even denied that what we saw in photographs was even real. (Of course, it didn't help that some sensationalist British newspapers did in fact stage some photographs.)

War - even a war such as WWII that by universal consensus was just - is not always heroic, is not always clean, and even the team you're rooting for is capable of at the very least making some horrendous mistakes. Claiming that the ugliness simply didn't exist to begin with demeans the whole enterprise, and in some sense even dishonours the people fighting it. They're in the muck, we're not, and we have no business sanitizing their horrific experience.

Now I realize Qana is an incident that certainly tends to lend resilience to those who want an immediate ceasefire. A good argument can perhaps be made that Qana is being overreported, and attacks with Katyusha rockets by Hezbollah are being underreported, and that the context we thus have in the public space is not balanced. But to claim that Qana didn't happen? That is to again kill every single child in that building, this time in cold blood.

War is brutal. People who both oppose war and support it both need to recognize the truth of that. And whitewashing its horrors doesn't allow for real discussion. How can we debate a war if we can't even speak honestly about what is happening in it?

Bombing farmers

I remember when I was young, there were a couple of kids in class one year who spent their summer break on a kibbutz in Israel. When they told us about what it was like, I remember thinking how cool Israel seemed, evincing an almost hippie ethic. (It was the seventies, what can I say.)

When a friend was telling me how she spent a few weeks on the Catholic equivalent just outside of Ottawa (I don't remember the name, but it was a semi-monastic communal farm somewhere around here), I remembered the warm feelings I had once had for such a lifestyle. I am sure it is romanticism, since I know that farming is a hard life. But there's always a grain of truth to any nostalgic feeling.

My nostalgic self gulped in terror reading about how today Hezbollah bombed a kibbutz.

As much as we try to design orderly processes for the world - diplomacy, negotiation, world bodies - a darker side of humanity always manages to smash through the pretty edifices we construct. War, it turns out, is a brutal and desperate thing, and in some respects, it almost seems absurd that there are rules for war, for it never takes long for someone to cheat, and do things like target innocents deliberately. Certainly you even expect that from terrorists.

I remember in school learning about the battle of the Plains of Abraham. It may be apocryphal, but I remember learning that the French soldiers lined up in a pretty formation, as per the rules of war. In war, your line was to fire a volley in unison, pause for the opponents to fire, and then return fire yourself. All very civilized.

And then the British blasted their line in half, roared up the hill like madmen and shot them all.

I think that's why I have such a hard time with war, although I can't say I am a pacifist in the sense that I oppose self-defence. But once you unleash war, it metastasizes, and has to be fought with brutal passion - it is very difficult to tame it, civilize it, or put a veneer of humaneness on top of it. It is why armies such as the one in Iraq, or the Canadian force in Somalia a decade ago, struggle with issues like torture and brutality, all the while facing an enemy that doesn't even pretend to observe rules of war.

What needs to happen is a sea change in the way our species thinks. There needs to be a broader consensus, and not just nodded-to pleasantries, that war does tend to dehumanize us. It may not always be possible to avoid war, but we can certainly become better attuned to the warning signs, and more acutely aware of the costs.

Let's hope Stephen King hasn't been re-reading "Misery" lately

Stephen King and John Irving both lobbied J.K. Rowling not to kill off Harry Potter in the seventh novel of that series. She has said two characters will die, and another got a reprieve.

Deaf old idiot

"Where are they," I asked, tapping my feet. I had been waiting for over an hour. I phoned home, and left a message. "What's going on?" I plaintively asked.

We had agreed to meet at the mall. We're having an unprecedented heat wave in Ottawa, and we thought that dinner out was infinitely more appealing than sweltering at home with the stove on.

But where were they? My wife said six, and I had been at the mall since quarter to. Why weren't they here?

Well, my wife showed up on time, just as I had. But she showed up at the right mall.

I am a doddering old senile idiot. 8=)