I left Ottawa on the late side as I had lingered over breakfast and conversation with my host and with the other guests at my B&B. It was a bright sunny day and I was thrilled to drive over the bridge that crosses from Ottawa to Gatineau, Quebec – I was now in my sixth province! I enjoyed the first hour or two of the drive, through some nice rolling forested hills and with occasional views of the Ottawa River, but then I quickly grew tired of the increasing amount of traffic on the main highway so I rerouted to some secondary roads more to the north, but they were also surprisingly busy, and many of the small towns that I passed through (with wonderful names like Sainte-Sophie, Sainte-Esprit, and Joliette) were bookended on their outskirts with traffic lights and the non-too-appealing line of gas stations, box stores, and fast food outlets typical of so many Canadian towns. I wasn’t loving the drive, the afternoon was growing very warm, and as I rejoined the freeways and finally neared Quebec City the traffic began moving really fast and there were multiple on and off ramps to negotiate to get to where I was going which was an Airbnb located in a leafy suburb about 30 minutes from Quebec City’s historic downtown.
The Airbnb was great, with a lovely hostess, and I had booked two nights there with a plan to park my car and take a local bus to visit the city’s historic centre, Vieux Quebec, on the following day. I had visited Quebec City three times before. The first time was when I was 17 years old and had travelled solo to Quebec to visit with relatives and to attend the Roberge family’s Tricentennial Celebration on L’Isle d’Orleans. That visit had sparked my love of travel and history, and I was greatly looking forward to revisiting Vieux Quebec’s charming cobblestone streets, the quaint houses and shops of the Lower Town, and especially Place Royale square with the architecturally simple yet exquisite Notre-Dame-des-Victoires Church which was built in 1688. Here are photos of 17 year-old-me at the Citadelle, and on a Quebec City Street.
But…, I soon found out from my hostess Suzanne that all of the Quebec City buses were on strike! Also, there was a large music festival on in the city, and two cruise ships full of tourists were docked in the harbour which meant that the streets of the old town would be crowded with visitors. The afternoon had grown incredibly hot and humid, which I am not at all used to, and I suddenly felt extremely tired and very dispirited.
I tried to make the best of it – my accommodation was on the lower level of a nice house which had a lovely garden and a swimming pool that I was free to use. I had a relaxing swim, chatted with Suzanne over coffee about travelling in France, made dinner in my suite, rested, then googled driving routes to downtown and where to park, etc. for the following day. Perhaps I didn’t sleep well, because in the morning when I woke I was so tired that the thought of driving a half hour into the centre of the city, and being amongst crowds in the heat and the humidity, was just too much. Also weighing on my mind was the long drive of 580 km on following day to get to my next campsite in New Brunswick so I told Suzanne that I was thinking of abandoning my second night of accommodation and leaving that morning in order to divide the next day’s drive in half. She responded with such kindness and compassion that it was easy to burst into tears and sob in her arms about my fatigue and the heat and the driving and no buses, etc. etc., etc. She encouraged me to stay, and even offered to drive me downtown, but I told her that I would call home and then decide. More sobbing over the phone as I spilled my woes, but with Brent’s patient listening I calmed quickly and decided that I really did need to give up my visit to Vieux Quebec and break up the next day’s travel.
Quebec City to Parc Provincial de la République, New Brunswick – 311 km
I thanked Suzanne, packed up, and headed out, still feeling exhausted. Once on the network of freeways, the driving was immediately challenging and fast, and then it was positively terrifying driving across the bridge over the St. Lawrence because very dark and low thunderclouds had built up quickly and just as I drove onto the bridge they let loose a thick torrent of rain. My windshield wipers couldn’t keep up, and I could barely see anything in front of me or beside me, BUT NO-ONE SLOWED DOWN!!
The rain and heavy traffic continued for another hour or two as I travelled away from Quebec City and towards the border with New Brunswick. I made a short stop at La Pocatiere for a much-needed break and to walk to the edge of the St. Lawrence River, but even that was a bust as the shore was inaccessible. Here are the only two photos that I took on my two days of travel through Quebec!
I rejoined the highway and thankfully the traffic eased once I was past Riviere-du-Loup, and I was finally able to relax a bit for the last hour and a half of the drive. I was thrilled to cross the border into New Brunswick – I was finally in the Maritimes! – and relieved to find a decent campsite a short while later at the peaceful, green and shaded Parc Provincial de la République. I settled into my site and walked off some of my stress on a trail along the river. Then more stress seeped away as I sat at a table near the pool and wrote in my journal, charged my electronics, and did laundry. The teenage workers there were wonderful – friendly, curious, and fluent in both French and English. I chatted with several lads, and with the lovely girl who was working in the gift shop. On her break, she asked to sit with me because she saw me journaling and felt inspired to work on her poetry beside me. We talked for a while (her mother is a published author), and then wrote in silence, side by side, companionably. I felt happy and grateful, and so glad that I had made the decision to break up the long drive into two days. I was also feeling proud and relieved – I had driven across Canada, safely, all the way to the Maritimes! So, here is one of my very favourite photos from my entire trip. A bag of New Brunswick’s famous Covered Bridge potato chips to show that I had arrived!
Thank you, readers, if you made it through all of the above woe-is-me text! Next time, lots of joy and photos from the beautiful province of New Brunswick. (And later, much more positive times in Quebec!) 🙂
National Gallery of Canada, Kiweki Point, Canadian Museum of History, Rideau Canal, Tours of the House of Commons and Senate
But first, a note to Readers,
As you know, I wrote very few posts while I was on the road and camping during my cross-Canada trip last summer. The following post continues on from my Ontario Part I post. I’m sorry if the lack of chronology is confusing, and I hope that you can enjoy the coming posts despite the jumping around from here to there!
Fitzroy Provincial Park to Ottawa – 63 km
Even a short distance can seem long when there is a torrential downpour and one is unfamiliar with the roads. Thank goodness for the Google lady who gives me directions over my phone! The rain started at about 3 a.m. in my campsite at Fitzroy Provincial Park and I finally got up at about 7 to discover that my Toyota was in the middle of a small lake, one inch deep, in my grassy campsite. Not for the first time, I felt very very grateful to not be sleeping in a tent! I was also grateful that the first half of the drive into Ottawa was on a quiet secondary road because visibility under the continuous and driving rain was very poor. I had a service appointment at a Toyota dealership, which lasted longer than expected (don’t they always), and then I made my way to my accommodation, the excellent, characterful, and reasonably-priced L’Auberge des Arts Bed and Breakfast, which is located on a quiet residential street within easy walking distance to Ottawa’s major attractions. After meeting my very kind host, I set off to visit the National Gallery of Canada and I spent a happy three hours there, primarily looking at Indigenous and Canadian art. But first, the architecture!
Perhaps my favourite piece of all was an intricate and beautiful carving of a full set of caribou antlers, by Jacoposie Oopakak, 1988-89. (Please do click on any photo to better view the exquisite details of the carvings).
I also loved these two prints by Inuk artists Pudlo Pudlat, “Landscape with Caribou” 1977, and Etidlooie Etidlooie, “Camp Scene with Whales, Fish, and Plants”, 1976.
After having finally experienced the landscape around Lake Superior, I was excited to see works by the Group of Seven. Clockwise from top left are: “Lake Superior”, by Lawren S. Harris, c. 1928, “”Ile du Pic, lac Superieur”, by Lawren S. Harris, 1924, “Birches” by Tom Thomson, 1916, “Stormy Weather, Georgian Bay”, by F.H. Varley, 1921, and “The Pool”, by Tom Thomson, 1915-1919.
These next two paintings made me think of my parents and relatives in Quebec. On the left is “Saint Urbain in Winter”, by Marc-Aurele Fortin, 1940-42, and on the right is “Winter, Quebec”, by A.Y. Jackson, 1926.
I was captivated by each of these beautiful portraits of women. Clockwise from top left are “Vera” by F.H. Valley 1930; “A Meeting of the School Trustees”, by Robert Harris, 1885: “Sister Saint-Alphonse” by Antoine Plamondor, 1841; “Portrait of a Young Woman” by Louis-Leopoldo Boilly, 1800-25; “Mrs. John Beverley Robinson” by George T. Berthon, 1846; and “Girl with Plant”, by Will Ogilvie, 1933.
I also visited the American and European Art galleries, and viewed a good deal of contemporary art. It was a fabulous visit, and a great way to spend my first afternoon in Ottawa. I exited near closing time to find that rain was still falling. Under my umbrella I took a walk to Kiweki Point, a newly-constructed walkway and viewing platform that was lined with native plants and iron sculptures of Canadian animals and their importance, traditional and modern, to the Algonquin Anishinabe. They included the Walleye, which has fed generations, and the Thunderbird, an important spiritual being in Algonquin Anishinabe stories and legends that controls the upper world and creates thunder and lightning with flaps of its wings. There were views to Parliament Hill, and across the Ottawa River to Gatineau, Quebec, and the Canadian Museum of History.
It was a peaceful place, and I returned to my accommodation happy with my first afternoon in Ottawa. I sat on the front porch of my excellent B&B in the relative cool of the evening and had great calls home with my sister Dede, and my brother Serge. It was his birthday!
The following day dawned bright and sunny, but it would grow to be oppressively hot and humid. Luckily, I spent much of my day inside cooled spaces. I woke early and walked across the bridge to Gatineau to visit the National Canadian Museum of History. I enjoyed the walk across the bridge amongst people cycling, jogging, and heading to work. There were views ahead to the museum,
and views back to Parliament Hill.
The museum had interesting architecture,
and the Grand Hall, which showcases Northwest Indigenous cultures with house fronts, poles, and other art and artefacts, was stunning.
Behind the house fronts were many historical artefacts on display including tools, blankets, baskets, masks, and personal and ceremonial objects. I admired the artful designs, both symmetrical and asymmetrical of this wooden screen, Nuu-chah-nulth (from around 1900).
I really liked that there was also a lot of contemporary art and objects, as well as audio and video of indigenous elders, community members, and artists sharing stories and reflections on their lives and works. It was very moving. Clockwise from top left, are: A serigraph, “Creation of the Squamish People”, by Floyd Joseph (1978); a ceremonial shirt, Tlingit (before 1925); a house post, Nuxalk (before 1920); a dance apron, Kwakwaka’wakw (1800s), and a chief’s chest, Tsimshian (before 1918); and finally a very impressive canoe, probably made at Waglisla (Bella Bella) around 1900. It was 16.5 metres long!
I continued to the second floor galleries which featured “Early Canada” and “Colonial Canada”. I took my time in these galleries and took many photos but I will only share a few. For Brent, who is a direct descendant of Leif Erickson, there were Norse objects found at sites in Nunavut, including a carpenter’s plane, wool cloth, and a knife of iron and caribou antler.
There was also a quote taken from the Saga of Erik the Red: “There they found fields of wild wheat…and the vine in all places…Every rivulet there was full of fish…There was great plenty of wild animals of every form in the wood…early one morning, as they looked around, they beheld nine boats made of hides.”
For my side of the family, in the exhibits on the French colonization of Canada, there was a map of L’Isle d’Orleans from 1709,
and a detail shows a plot of land owned by Pierre Roberge, a descendant of a former Pierre Roberge, my ancestor, who emigrated from Normandy to Quebec in 1679 (the plot can be found to the lower left of the “I” in “Isle”.). My mother’s family, Dallaire, emigrated to Quebec’s L’Isle d’Orleans from France even earlier, in 1658!
I next viewed the exhibits in the Modern Canada gallery. Here are just a few items and photos that appealed to me, clockwise from top left: the jersey worn by Maurice “Rocket” Richard (for my dad); Doug and Bob, eh?; Terry Fox; Queen Elizabeth II and Pierre Elliott Trudeau signing the Proclamation of the Constitution Act on April 17, 1982, and a photo from the early 1960s as debate began on the need for a new, distinctly Canadian flag.
After my visit to the museum I walked back over the bridge, from Gatineau to Ottawa. It was now past noon and swelteringly hot and humid!
I made my way down to where the Rideau Canada meets the Ottawa River and walked past its locks and historic buildings,
and then rose up onto Parliament Hill. I felt very excited to be there, as were many others! It was incredibly busy with couples, families, large tour groups, and a few solo travellers like myself taking selfies and group photos – there were Canadians of all cultural backgrounds, and visitors from abroad, and all seemed very happy to be visiting Canada’s capital. Here are the buildings of the Centre Block surrounded by cranes as they undergo structural rehabilitation and renovation (which will take until 2032!).
Here is a photo of the buildings of the East Block,
and here are the buildings of the West Block where the House of Commons is currently housed while the Centre Block is under rehabilitation.
I had booked a free tour of the House of Commons and it was excellent! After passing through security, our guide led us to the viewing areas used by the public and the press,
then we went to the lower level and gained a rare admittance to the floor itself as the Parliamentary Sargent At Arms happened to be on site and invited us in. (Our tour leader was surprised and pleased as she had never been on the floor herself.) The Prime Minister sits in Seat 11 (top right photo), and of course the Speaker of the House sits in the throne-like centre chair (lower right photo).
We next went to view a Committee Room, and this is where I learned new things about our Parliamentary process of creating legislation. Here, select Members of Parliament, along with experts and witnesses, assess and fine-tune legislative bills before they return to the house and then the senate.
I left my tour feeling very proud of our rules-based, highly procedural, and essentially collaborative and cooperative parliamentary process (though debates on the floor can certainly give a different impression). I was also very impressed with our knowledgeable young tour guide and with all of the staff that I encountered – everyone was fluently bilingual and seemed very happy to educate and serve the thousands of visitors who come here. I left the Houses of Parliament for the short walk to where the Senate is currently housed, and en-route I passed the National War Memorial, with two sentries standing guard.
The Senate is now temporarily housed in Ottawa’s Union Station building, a railway station which was completed in 1912 in the Beaux-Arts style with its columns, domes, and arches.
The Senate tour was also excellent, and again I was impressed by what I learned and by our knowledgable and excellent tour guide. I was so glad that I had finally visited our nation’s capital!
After my tour of the Senate Building I wandered for a time along the Rideau Canal,
and then made my way to the Byward Market – a large area filled with farmers’ market stalls, cafes and shops selling specialty foods, art, crafts, and clothing. It was busy with people and for once I enjoyed the hubbub of a happy milling crowd, but not for long! I had read about a casual and inexpensive Jamaican eatery, Island Flava, that was close to my accommodation, and I am so glad that I went there for a plate of their delicious jerk chicken, rice, plantains, and salad. I received a very friendly welcome, and chatted with the chef about road trips and travel in the Maritimes. 🙂
I returned to my B&B, tired but happy, to sit for a while on the front porch again and then spend time downloading photos and working on my blog in my room. I wished that I had booked several more days in Ottawa as there is so much more to see and do, but perhaps I’ll return one day, maybe in winter when I can skate on the Rideau Canal – an iconic way to celebrate Canada! Here are just a few more photos from my brief, but excellent, visit to our nation’s capital.
From Eastend Saskatchewan, across Alberta, and into Beautiful British Columbia
I drove the last leg homeward, over four days, largely on familiar territory. It was a quieter, reflective time, with fewer stops, that was less about seeing new vistas and more about saying hello to old friends (a highway, a town, a campground…). Each day started early, with solid sessions of driving, still mainly on secondary rural roads, and each ended in time for a campground dinner, quiet evening, and early night. My headache was still present each day, and most of me was fixated on getting home, but another part of me was feeling slightly melancholy, and did not want my journey to end.
I said goodbye to Eastend Saskatchewan, and rose up out of the Frenchman River valley and onto another perfectly straight stretch of prairie highway, empty of traffic.
Tractors and harvesting machinery were parked in the fields, ready for the day’s upcoming work,
or resting after the previous day’s work was done.
I turned to the north, from Saskatchewan Highway 13 onto Highway 21, to avoid a long stretch of gravel road travel, and the road took me down into and across a new section of the beautiful Frenchman River valley.
I turned west again, crossed the border into Alberta, and later turned south onto Highway 685. Here, the road swooped down into and across another wide flat-bottomed valley,
with distant views of the 40 Mile Reservoir. These gorgeous valleys stir up strong feelings of wanting to be a land baron!
Highway 685 ended at the tiny town of Etzikom, Alberta, a new place for me. A sign at the edge of town advertised a windmill museum so I thought that I would make a quick stop as I love windmills. All was dead still in this town as I drove down its main street at about midday. The air was heavy, and there was a sense of abandonment and disuse.
I turned down one of the side streets and passed a few tidy houses and parked cars, but there wasn’t a person in sight, including at the town’s Jubilee Park where I just had to stop because the playground equipment was all pretty much identical to the equipment that I had played on as a kid in the late sixties and early seventies in Cumberland’s Kin Park.
There was no one anywhere around – not one kid, nor any moms with toddlers, and not even a passing car. There was just this empty and deeply silent place, seemingly trapped in time, like something from a Twilight Zone episode. But, despite the slight sense of eeriness, I loved the playground memories that the equipment sparked and I felt compelled to linger. I sat on the swings to add a bit of movement and life to the park, and I wanted to try out the teeter totter but I didn’t have a partner. (One always needed a teeter totter partner that you could trust, not one of those friends who thought it was funny to jump off suddenly when they were at the bottom and you were at the top!)
I left the park and drove a couple of blocks to arrive at the Etzikom Museum and Historic Windmill Centre which was a much grander enterprise than expected! I was drawn first to the windmills, arranged to the side and behind the large museum building which was once the town’s school. There are almost twenty historic and varied windmills on display, each with a descriptive information sign that detailed the windmill’s design features and history of use on the Canadian prairies.
It was very interesting! To the left is the Beatty Pumper, which became the most widely used windmill on prairie farms, and there was even a European-style windmill which could be found at places like Fort Douglas, Manitoba, and Fort Edmonton, Alberta, in the early 1800s.
After touring the windmills I decided to skip the museum and head back out on the road, but luckily I popped in to use their washroom and this is what greeted me when I entered!
An old-fashioned soda-fountain shop selling ice cream and floats, coffee and pie! And, behind the counter were two bright-eyed, fresh-faced teenagers with big welcoming smiles. I wish that I had a photo of them! They looked very happy to have someone walk into their museum, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint them by not staying. It was an excellent museum! Like many prairie town museums, the focus was on early settlement, farming, ranching, and pioneer life. There was a replica Main Street with a boardwalk, and views into spaces such as a barber shop, post office, general store, and school room.
There were also many themed rooms, including a replica mid-1900’s kitchen where the table was set with “Rosalie”-patterned kitchenware. Edged in 22 karat gold, these dishes would have been collected as premiums in bags of Quaker Oats!
After my tour of the museum I decided to splurge on a piece of homemade pie with ice cream, and I greatly enjoyed talking to the teenage girls about their school life (favourite subjects, sports played, future plans etc.), and about their summer work at the museum. When I asked about the origin of the museum’s focus on windmills, one of the girls replied that “every prairie town museum has an old-fashioned sewing machine”, so the museum director decided to have their museum be unique by being the only windmill museum in Canada. It was a joy to talk with them – such a bright spark of life and light in the town – and the pie and ice cream was delicious!
Fortified by my stop, I continued west, now on Alberta Highway 61, with a quick stop in Foremost,
and later I stopped to photograph the tail end of a very long, long, long line of black rail cars that had stretched, for multiple kilometres, roughly parallel to the highway and across a wide expanse of freshly shorn wheat.
As I continued west, dark clouds steadily built up overhead, and I decided to stop early and camp at the Lower St. Mary’s Reservoir campground where I have stayed before. I was feeling tired and headachy, and a bit woozy from the road. Luckily, the campground was not very full, considering that it was Thursday night before the Labour Day weekend, and I was happy to get a large waterfront site with no near neighbours.
It was blessedly peaceful and quiet, and after dinner I took a walk to view the spillway and then decided to walk downriver a ways until a gentle rain started to fall.
It rained through the night, and I woke often, but the rain on my roof is a comforting sound, even in a downpour. My Toyota looked a bit forlorn in the morning, though, covered in leaves and twigs from my campsite’s tall cottonwoods, and a few of those cottonwood leaves were bright yellow, signalling the coming of autumn. As I was leaving, I stopped half way up the gravel road that takes campers from the lower reservoir back up to the prairie level, for this view back down over the area.
It was definitely time to head home, and from here that thought amplified as the Rocky Mountains began to come into view as I travelled west on Alberta Highway 505.
The day brightened as I drew closer to the mountains, and I soaked in my last views of the magnificent Alberta prairie.
I turned onto Highway 6 North, with a brief stop in Pincher Creek, and then onto Highway 3 West, first passing the site of the enormous and devastating Frank Slide,
and then stopping to photograph the gorgeous Mt. Tecumseh and Crowsnest Mountain.
I crossed into B.C. at the Crowsnest Pass and was quite frankly astounded anew by my province’s incredible mountain scenery. I have driven the wonderful Highway 3 across southern B.C. several times before, but the mountains seemed to have grown in my absence! I greatly enjoyed the drive along forested slopes and river valleys, passed quickly through the towns of Sparwood, Fernie, Elko and Cranbrook, and then decided to camp at the small and well-remembered Yahk Provincial Park where I have stayed before. Inexpensive and convenient, with large and reasonably private sites, this campground is located beside a lovely section of the Moyie River where I sat and watched bats swoop and swerve over the river as dusk fell.
I woke early again, ready for my second-to-last day of driving. It was a beautiful day, with a bright blue sky, and I stopped briefly in Creston for this last photo of a grain elevator. Built in the mid 1930’s, it stored wheat, oats, and barely that were grown in the fertile and extensive agricultural lands of the Creston Valley.
As I continued westward I enjoyed the rising and falling curves of the highway as I took in more views of forested mountain slopes, sparkling river valleys, and rocky pinnacles. Unfortunately, photos do not do justice to the immensity of the mountains, but they do capture the beauty of this small alpine lake at Kootenay Pass, looking towards the west,
and then from the other side of the lake looking east.
I made a stop in Greenwood, one of my favourite B.C. small towns, to visit “my house”** (see link at the end of this post),
and later I made my first ever stop in the town of Midway, where I checked out their riverside campground for future reference. It was a nice place to stop, eat some lunch, and rest a bit while watching the lazy flow of the Kettle River, and there is a riverside trail starting from here that I might walk someday…
Here, I made the obligatory stop at the top of Anarchist Mountain for the view down into Okanagan Valley,
with a zoomed-in view of the town of Osoyoos, and yet more mountains ahead!
I followed the S-curves down to Osoyoos and considered stopping for a swim, but home was now like a magnet, pulling ever-stronger the closer I got to the coast so I zipped straight through town, rose steeply up out of the valley, and later stopped for this view as the road swooped down again.
I stopped again on the approach to Cawston and Keremeos. Look at those mountains! It was like I was seeing them for the first time. Below is the Similkameen River and nestled ahead in the narrow V of the river’s valley is the town of Keremeos with its vineyards, orchards, and roadside fruit stands.
It was still early in the day, and I had thought that I might drive all the way to Vancouver, arriving near dark, but I was feeling tired. I then considered driving as far as Manning Park, but I knew from previous experience that it might be impossible to find a campsite there on the Labour Day weekend so I checked out the Prikard Creek Recreation Site campground, located just west of Keremeos, and luckily there was a site for me, and an excellent one at that! The campground was right beside the beautiful Similkameen River, and the air was hot and dry and smelled of Ponderosa Pine.
I had a wonderful and relaxing late-afternoon swim, entering upstream, floating downstream with the current, and then walking back upriver to do it over and over again. I felt happy here, and I took a rare selfie as it was my very last night on the road. I also took a last photo of the Similkameen River as the sun lowered in the west. It was to be my last photo of my long journey across Canada and back.
The Very Last Leg of the Last Leg!
In my memory, my campout at Prikard Creek was the end of my epic roadtrip, but of course I still had the very last leg to complete, a further 320 km to reach home! I left shortly after dawn, and I had the beautiful highway through more scenic B.C. wilderness mostly to myself all the way to where Highway 3 joins Highway 1 just east of Hope. From there, the traffic began to build considerably, and soon there was a thick stream of holiday-weekend traffic, still travelling at speed, as we crossed over the Patullo Bridge and continued westward towards the city. (“It would be a shame to have an accident now!” I thought!) Finally, I exited the stress of Highway 1 and crossed Boundary Road into Vancouver. Phew! Then, after a last half hour of driving, my trusty Toyota and I were finally back home, safe and sound, having travelled 17,787 kilometres, over two and a half months, together across Canada and back. Phew indeed!
So, would I do it again? When I first returned I would have answered, “No way, once was enough!”, but now, months later, I’m not so sure!
Thank you for joining me on the journey, and I hope to see you on the next! 🙂
P.S. I have just realized that the very first and the very last photos of my trip were both of the Similikameen River, taken two and a half months apart. Here, at Bromley Rock Provincial Park in June, the river had been running fast and high with spring runoff, and it was so beautiful – deep, clear, green, and sparkling!
