The Prairies are not as Flat as you Think

When I say to most people that I am going across the country by train, and it will take three days plus, most say something like “the Prairies are so flat, it will be boring for you”. I’m here to disavow you of this misconception.

By the time we got past Edmonton, we were truly out of the Rockies. And it was flat, compared to them. I have felt in the past (I have been on the Prairies before, once to work for a month as a medical student), that for the two “ends” of the country, the land is mostly flat with hills going up from there. The prairies do this in reverse: they have flat land with river valleys going down from there. They are not flat at all, just different.

But it became boring, not through geography, but through just taking too much time. We began to count the hours late, sort of like notches on the bedpost. At one point, we were over twenty hours late. Now, this has some advantages: we arrived at Saskatoon some twenty hours late, which put it at about 10 PM. So I got to see the railway station there (big thrill, eh? When you are stuck on a train that late, you look for good stuff where you can find it!).

But it also meant that we had to make up time where we could. So our stop in Winnipeg was shortened a lot, and I didn’t get to re-visit the Canadian Museum for Human Rights, or the Forks area. Instead, I hung around inside the sttion and tried to get somw wifi for emails and such. 

Leaving Winnipeg, it started to snow. And it snowed hard right to the Ontario border, then more lightly. In the end, we had snowy and cold conditions all across Northern Ontario, as far as Sudbury. This was particularly tough because Darlene, at home, was enjoying +20 degree weather. Oh well, such are the experiences of this big country!

In the end, we arrived in Toronto in the early morning, some 17 hours later than expected. Difficult for those making connections through Pearson, or to other trains going further East. But for me, it meant I got to sleep one more time on the train, and be ready to go when I got home. 

“There was a Time, in this Fair Land, when the Railroad did not Run”

Gordon Lightfoot comes to mind as I ride across the country on steel rails. Of course, his “Steel Rail Blues” could also be appropriate. This trip by rail was one that I was looking forward to as part of my vacation out West. But, like other parts of this trip, there have been complications.

One of the reasons for staying with Patrick on my last night in Victoria, was to be inside the perimeter of the marathon so I could get to the seaplane for an early flight to Vancouver. The Canadian (VIA’s trans-continental train) was to leave at noon, and I didn’t want to miss it.

So it was disappointing when I received an email the day before that there had been a problem with the train from the east, and the outgoing train would be delayed an unknown number of hours. I decided to go to Vancouver anyways, and stay in the station. But it was rining, so I was in no hurry. The seaplane rie over to the big city was a treat I gave myself, and was worth it: they fly low enough to see a lot more, and it is only a 45-minute flight. When I got to the airport in downtown Vancouver, the rain was still coming down, so I sat in the reception area of the airport for an hour or so before heading out into the drizzle. It was about two kilometres to the station, and again I was taking my time. Somewhere along the way, I got a further email from the folks at VIA telling me the wait would be about five hours. (I found out late there had been a derailment and an accident in Ontario, and also that CN in Winnipeg had denied them use of the tracks for a few hours, even though they were ready to go.) Eventually, we got going, about six hours behind schedule. But surely we could make that up, eh? It’s a big country, after all.

One of the disadvantages of being so late was that we would not be able to see the Fraser Canyon, a spectacular gorge in the rock through which the river crashes headlong towards the sea. But, on the other side, we would be in daylight through the main part of the Rockies. And so it was. 

After the introductory bubbly, and a fine dinner, I crashed into bed about eight o’clock, hoping to get on top of this cold. I slept for about ten of the next eleven hours, and felt a whole lot better. After some breakfast, I went for some viewing in the Dome Car. I was watching out the window, and noticed by the side of the trcks, surrounded by dense forest, a small grave, white picket fence and cross in place. There would be story to tell there! (VIA, in its search for more money, has set up a “Prestige Class”—which I’m not a part of—and they have exclusive access to the back of the train. We have an observation car a bit more forward in the train: still good, but not like those Park cars with the rounded rears at the back of the train.) But I was getting tired again, and we had an unscheduled stop, for freight trains of course, so I had a sleep. Didn’t miss a lot of scenery, and woke with mountains looming high and snowy—the snow seeming to flow like gentle streams down the mountain gulleys— over the shallow valleys. We slowed at Pyramid Falls for some pictures, then again near Mount Robson, before getting to the Great Divide. And then gently downwards into Jasper for a scheduled stop, and to pick up and leave off some passengers. 

 Monday is when they are celebrating Thanksgiving on the train, so clearly we had to have turkey for supper. But before that, there was another bubbly intro for new passengers (and some of us older ones partook). And my neighbours had bought some wine in Jasper and invited me and another couple for a glass before dinner. I had first sitting, and sat with a couple from Utah. Pleasant conversation, as expected. Then back to the room, and to bed to read for a while before trying to sleep.

The overnight was bad for the train. Lots of freight trains pushing us into sidings for hours. By the time I woke this morning, we were about 12 hours late, and just leaving Edmonton (we should have been there yesterday afternboon). All the staff deserve a hand for being as positive as they are, but this is not good. Breakfast and reading, writing my blog, skipping lunch, thinking abouot a nap: all these things to do!

Disc Golf at Pender Island

Saturday broke cool and clear. Pat and I had arranged to have coffee at his place before eight, then head off for Pender, to catch the 9:45 ferry. We got there, waited for a while, then boarded ship and sailed. A better day could not have been requested: water was calm, the air was cool, the sun bright, and the islands just sparkling.

It’s a short trip over to the Otter Bay, about 35 minutes. And we were on our way. First stop was in the plaza along the way, a pretty modern place with a books tore, a few clothing places, a grocery, a gas station (which Pat informs me sells discs). We went to eat at Jo’s Place, where they sere up hearty fare with a smile, and good cooking. By the end of that, it was almost 11:00.

Then off to the golf course for a round of 27 holes! I admit I was a bit concerned that my old knees wouldn’t do it, but then I realized that the holes were only a few hundred yards long. And Pat was a great teacher. He was gentle, constantly positive, and supportive. 

The first nine were sort of a practice round. On the second or third, I almost stopped the day, by slipping on a moist bit of rock and coming down hard on my back onto a rock. It literally knocked the breath out of me, so I could not breathe for about 20 seconds (it felt longer). But I had landed perfectly: straight onto the flat rock, flat onto my back. It would have been nicer not to have fallen, but this was okay. We went on, and I even succeeded in getting a few birdies.

So we did the 27 holes, me with very little skill, and a bit of back pain, but lots of enthusiasm. Worked up a thirst, and we decided to go to the pub at Port Browning. This was a short drive, and a beautiful spot. We walked the beach for a while, stared at the water, and finally went for our beer.

Then back to the ferry and on home. Because of the marathon, we had decided to drop off the car Saturday evening, so it was after dark when we got home to Pat’s place. After a left-overs supper that was pretty darn good, we talked a bit and cleaned up. I was going to sleep on his floor, so had to get the air mattress and sleeping bag set up. I was coming down with a cold, so I wanted to go to bed early. Pt went out to a friends while I settled into bed. I slept my last night there hearing the sounds of a Saturday night, and the preparations for a Sunday marathon.

Island Time

I started out early, snce I had to go to Duncan, through the Malahat, and that would take about an hour’s drive. The day was sunny and cool, but the brightness was enriching. The drive was unveventful, and I succeeded in finding Paul Reynold’s house. He led me into the kitchen nook, where we sat and talked for several hours. We were joined at times by his wife (?Shirley?), and we talked about older days, as well as what we had all been up to since we saw each other last, 50 years ago. Photo is of the Cowichan area from the Malahat lookout.

I had intended to stay for only about three houors, but ended up being there for four. So it was almost three by the time I got back into Victoria, to the 

Finnie’s house.Libby, as expected, was in her garden; Neil was out doing a literacy course. Libby and I went for a good walk around her local Golf Course, and got home in time for some talk before Neil arrvied, then talked some more. They were off to an All-Candidates’ Meeting that night for Saanich, So I was able to leave in good time and join Pat and two of his friends at The Drake (a lovely pub). I met Doug who does some film work; and Tim, who works at SportChek and for IronMan Canada. Talked about work, issues of sexual identity, beer lore, Victoria’s ills. It was a bit noisy, and I had trouble keeping up with the banter. I got tired early and headed back to the hotel for a great sleep. A busy day.

You can’t expect Victoria to be sunny two days in a row, at this time of year. So it was raining the next day. Pat had arranged to have the day off to be with me. We had designated it a shopping day. First, we had to re-stock his fridge, and buy some food for supper that night. (I knew I wouldn’t be let in my house if I didn’t do this!). Then some shopping for kitchen things for Pat and some other things for Darlene. We wandered about town, lots of walking. Stopped for lunch at the Board Game Café (where I met Arlo, another of Pat’s friends).

But a complication had arisen. Turns out that Victoria has a big marathon on Thanksgiving Sunday, the very day I was going to need to get around downtown. Some streets would be closed, others difficult to cross. I had planned to stay in Saanich on Saturday. night, but in the end, decided that I had better stay with Pat and sleep on the floor, so I would be inside the marathon zone, and able to get to my flight more easily.

We had a wonderful cooked chicken that couldn’t be beat, on the Friday. And there were left-overs for Saturday. Again, Friday, I stayed at the hotel. I was not going to be able to do that on Saturday. So life became a bit more comlicated.

The Wild, White West

I should have known when I was in bed, listening to Matt Galloway on Tuesday morning. It was my birthday, and I was going to go to see patrick in Victoria. I was going to leave the house at 2, fly out of Hamilton at 4, and be in Victoria by 8 their time. 

Matt mentioned casually that Calgary had had some snow, and he hoped it wouldn’t come east. Funny, and I didn’t think too much of it. Until about 2, when I got an email from WetJet saying that my plane was going to be an hour late. This was followed hosrtly by another email stating it was now going to be two hours late. So I got on the phone, waited for over a half-hour, and got my ticket re-arranged so I would get on the 11 PM flight (I was going to miss the earlier one leving Calgary). Got to the airport, and got on the plane, which left as scheduled, about 2 hours late.

When we got to Calgary, we understood: they had been whallopped with almost two feet of snow! Nothing was moving. And the plane, as it landed, seemed to slide a bit on the frozen runway, but managed to keep in a straight line. So we got into Calgary at about 8:45PM, ready for our flight.

Well, the weather was not finished with us. Our pilot was still on his way to Calgry from somewhere else, and would be late, perhaps midnight. We were touchy, bordering on enraged, but, what can hyou do? We waited, and waited. And about midnight, they let us onto the plane. We settled in, they pushed back from the gate, and along came with this praying-mantis-like de-icing maching to spray down the wings so we wouldn’t crash: good idea. We were almost on our way. Until...a passenger felt ill. So we had to think about it a while, then returned to the gate so the woman could be taken to hospital. We finally took off—you guessed it—two hours late. By the time I got to the hotel, it was 2:30 AM in Victoria, 5:30 AM by my body’s clock. Bed was really nice, and fortunately it was comfortable and I slept well. And there was no snow in Victoria.

And there were some plusses/ When I woke about ten in the morning, I waas feeling pretty good. I went down to the hotel restaurant (Ruby’s) and had some wonderful bagels and smoked salmon, with capers fininshed by sauteeing (wonderful! I will try this at home). Plus, they were playing Aretha Franklin on their steroe from old LPs! Heaven.

And then an obligatory trip to Russell Books for some browsing, and a walk about town for a while. I talked with Pat, and we agreed to meet after his work. That gave me some hours to play. One of the things I did was go to check out the ncar rental possibilities. Turns out to be $65/day if I rented it the following day, and $42/day of I rented it tht day. So I rented it. I had arranged to go up and see my friend Paul Reynolds in Duncan the following day, and would also stop by the Finnies for a visit. So it made sense.

Met up with Pat after his work, and we walked back to his apartment. We decided to have supper out and then follow that with a viewing of Michael Moore’s new film about the Trump US. Nice evening; not a nice film (simultaneously disturbingly accurate and insightful, and disturbingly unfocussed and fuzzy). And so to bed.

Minden Time, August 27-29, 2018

Dan and Katy were over from London, and we had wanted to give Katy (and ourselves) a bit of exposure to the Canadian Shield. So we rented a B&B for two days just outside of Minden, Ontario, on the Beech River. It was not Algonquin, but it was what we could do in the time allotted. And it was a bit rustic. At the least, it had a river and a canoe,which allowed us to introduce the Brit to Canadian canoeing (she had never been in a canoe, much less paddled in one). But we were anxious: the weather was forecast to be hot with thunderstorms both days!

Darlene and I went up in the VW, and Dan and Katy in their rented car (they were proceeding on to Ottawa after our two days). Our trip up was not too long, and went well. However, our rendezvous place in Minden was closed; the Library next door, though, was open and wonderful, so we waited there. When the young folk arrived, we all went together to the cottage, a place just off one of the roads along the river. Interestingly, Shawn, who was renting the place out, was a midget. He showed us through, and left us alone.

We settled in, scoped out the place, and sat down while Dan and Katy went to do some shopping. It rained. Then it stopped. When they got back, there was some talk, some reading, and then some cooking. Darlene and I had brought some steak and corn with us, and it went over well. Lots of wine to accompany it (and some beer and some bubbly: those British sure can drink!). And just as we settled down at the end of the meal, it really began to rain—hard. But the rain finished with a beautiful sky.

Lots of talking and reading and sitting. We had taken board games, but none of us wanted to play, particularly. We went to bed at a good time, and slept with the air conditioner on for part of the night. I for one had a fabulous sleep, even though there was thunder, lightning, and rian through the night.

Next day began with some clouds, but pretty soon became a blue-sky-with-puffy-clouds day, and we altered our plans. First, we got Katy in a canoe, and she did very well indeed. Then we decided to go our exploring. We had a great breakfast at the cottage, then headed north to the Dorset area, first to see the Fire Tower there, then for a lunch by the water.

On our way back to the cottage, we were going right by Camp Kandalore. At Darlene and Dan’s suggestion, we stopped and went in to see if they would let us take a look. We were in luck: the campers had left the previous day, and the camp was almost empty, with only a few staff hanging around. They were very welcoming and told us we could go and look wherever we wished. 

(A point of explanation: I had been a camp councillor back in the 60’s for three or four years, including being a tripper the summer after we got married.)

So we walked over to the Senior Section, looked at the swimming area, saw the Chapel Island, and in the Dining Hall we found a board with my name on it from the Nor’Westers.

It was quite moving for me to be back there, in a place that had shaped my life as a late teenager, after all these years.

We had to celebrate, so we stopped at Kawartha Dairies just outside of Minden for their wonderful ice cream, before returning to the cottage. 

That evening, we eventually had some supper of hot dogs and such, and after sleeping not as well, got up and packed and cleaned the next morning. Breakfast at Molly’s Bistro and Bakery, and we went our separate ways: the kids to Ottawa and us back to Dundas.

Canoe Trip, 2018

Joel and I have been going on canoe trips almost annually since 1979. In those 39 years, this was our 36th trip. And we are getting older, so we have adapted the trip to our aging bodies. This trip was August 6-11, 2018.

This year, we decided to go to Kioshkokwi, the northernmost lake in Algonquin Park. We would stay at one campsite, or at least only on the one lake. We would do day-trips perhaps, but not portage the whole of our camping equipment to another lake. We would accept that we have trouble with carrying a lot of “stuff”. But staying on one lake allowed for some other things: we could use our own, heavier but nicer canoe; we could carry along a chair for the campsite.

So we set off from Toronto (where I had driven my smart car in the previous night), and headed for Huntsville for the night. After doing food shopping, getting our rental equipment from Algonquin Outiftters, and having a pretty good lunch at the “Mill on Main”, we settled into our hotel for the evning. However, supper was needed, and we went to the “Artisan House” restaurant for a delightful meal–so good that we booked for the following week after we left the Park.

Our goal on the next day was to get onto the lake, and get our campsite. We drove to Kiosk entry point, and then we looked at the weather forecast. It called for serious rain, and severe thunderstorms at about the time we would normally be cooking supper. So we felt that a night in North Bay would not hurt. A check on TripAdvisor, and we had a room at the Homewood Suites in North Bay. Since it was a suite, there were cooking facilities, and we cooked our first meal in the room. It was just fine. And indeed, there was a serious rain and wind storm (although not much lightning).

Next day we got onto the lake, paddled for about three hours on the west end of the lake, and settled on a site actually pretty near the put-in spot. The site I had wanted to return to was occupied by a family with children. We set up and settled down.

The next days were variable in weather, with stretches of cloudy skies looking like rain (but not producing any), interspersed with sunny periods. Most nights were clear. Bugs were good, except for the flies which bit and didn’t take kindly to being shooed away. We had a resident chipmunk. As well as a squirrel, and one rabbit which hopped nonchalantly through the site.

One of the nights, we had a spectacular sunset, perhaps enhanced by the close-by forest fires.

And on the 10th, the day was one of those rare summer days when everything goes well. We went swimming that day.

The next day, it rained in the morning, and we decided to go in a day early and stay in Huntsville. We did this, had a great day in town, ate again at the Artisan House, as well as the Tall Trees, and shared a fine bottle of bubbly. 

And, sadly, we then headed home into the traffic and the heat of Southern Ontario once more. But the trip went fine, and proved a good respite from the urban life.

Anne of Huntingdon

Our friend, Jeannie Rosenberg, had accepted a role as Marilla in a production of “Anne of Green Gables” (the play which has been put on continuously in Charlotteltown PEI for over fifty years). We wanted to go and see her in it, and took the opportunity for a short vacation in the Huntingdon area, south-west of Montreal. Hugh agreed to come and pick us up at Cornwall, so we took the train on Thursday, July 26 for a long weekend. 

Train, as ususal, was comfortable, and the trip was uneventful, if longer than we would like (although shorter than if we had driven). Hugh was there to meet us. On the way back through Valleyfield, we stopped at a little Mexican restaurant for an outdoor meal of guacamole, fajitas, and so on, along with a couple of beers. Pleasant, slightly cooler weather made for a good time; and refreshed, we headed for the farm. Jeannie arrived from her practice an hour or so after us. And the dog, Gwen, was ever friendly and welcoming.

It is so nice to be on the farm, where there is not the noise we have on Sydenham Street, and the vistas are long and green.

Our tickets were for the Saturday matinee. Friday was a slow day for us, even though Hugh was going back to the “back forty” to dig rocks and work on a new pasture. Darlene went back with him for a bit, partly for the ride, and partly to see the sheep that were out in pasture along with their guard dog George. Jeannie and I went for a walk partway out to the fields, and back.

Jeannie had a performance that evening, got her makeup on and hair set, and left about five for her show. Hugh and Darlene and I settled in for a lovely meal of steak and wine, and lots of good conversation: topics regarding the state of the world, the state of farming, the trouble with sheep, and so on. Jeannie came home about 10:30, and said the performance had gone well, although the lights went out at one point, before the generator could come on. (The play is performed under a tent on a large field, so is  “off the grid”).

Saturday, after breakfast, Hugh had a bit of work to do, and Jeannie had to leave about noon for the performance we were going to. Our friend Elizabeth Robinson, was going to come to the farm and go with us to the play. But she got caught in traffic, so we agreed to meet at the play, in Ste-Anicet. We got there about 1:30, for the opening at 2. We joined maybe sixty others and waited in expectation.

And the play began, with a cast of locals, but a big cast. Jeannie is fourth from the right in the back row. She made a great Marilla! And the play was wonderful - hokey at times, but well-done, and full of the kind of enthusiasm you would hope for. The kids, and there were a lot of them, were terrific. And the girl who played Anne was 14 (although she appeared 18), was very good as well. Plus a musical group of four or five: it was quite a production.

Hugh had suggested a picnic supper with Jeannie after the show, since Jeannie had to stay for an evening show as well. So we did that, camping out on the patio of a pub overlooking the St. Lawrence River. Lots of food, and again, wonderful weather. After supper, we took Elizabeth on a tour of the surrounding country (Jeannie had to go and ready herself for the show). We stopped at the abandoned settlement of LaGuerre, at an old derelict church. Surprisingly, there were about a dozen Harleys there, so it was busy. Rain came, and we left quickly (the Harley folks got quite wet, I guess). Dropped Elizabeth off at her car for her return to Montreal, and the headed home. We had some bubbly and guacamole for Jeannie when she got home from her hard day, again about 10:30.

And Sunday was a day for doing a few things at the farm (I went out and helped Hugh a bit pulling up some fencing in the new field), seeing Jeannie off and then heading to the train. A pleasant and uneventful ride home. And a very pleasant weekend.

Old Friends in Old Montreal

I am writing this as we depart Montreal, at the end of our time here.

 

We had decided some time ago that we wanted to go to the Leonard Cohen exhibit in Montreal, and had many commendations from friends who had been. As is our usual pattern, we procrastinated until the exhibit was almost finished. Fortunately, this pushed us to contact friends and lay out our itinerary for a long weekend (5 days) in Montreal with friends and with Leonard Cohen. Darlene did most of the arranging, and I arranged the transport to and from (the easy part).

 

We left home about 9 in the morning to take our little smart car to Aldershot, find a parking place for it, and get on the GO Train bound for Toronto. This part went smoothly, and the transfer to our VIA train was effortless. The train was full, but we were comfortable, and they soon came around with refreshments to ease any pain we might have. Soon we were barreling through the south-eastern Ontario countryside.

 

And then we weren’t. Just past Belleville, we ground to a halt, pulling past a smoking vehicle at the side of the tracks. When we stopped, I noticed a policeman walking beside the train, carrying a rifle. Hmm. It took a while, but eventually the news came in that we were stopped by a police action. Some convicts had escaped, and just been re-captured. In the process, a car had been left too close to the tracks, and our train had hit it. We needed to stay put for up to two hours before the police and VIA would be able to let us go on. 

 

Fortunately, it was not a full two hours, and we were going again. We phoned Claudette (with whom we were staying) and told her we would be late. We actually arrived at Bonaventure about 90 minutes behind when we were scheduled. Claudette’s Metro instructions were good, we bought our passes and went there as fast as we could.

 

She lives in a 25-story apartment block, on the 21st floor. A nice small apartment, close to almost everything, by the old Forum and Alexis Nihon Plaza. Turns out we had missed the rush hour, and the crowds were not at all bad on the metro. And we had two wonderful examples of generosity: people who were kind enough to help Darlene on the stairs with her bag.

 

A terrific supper, and then to bed. Lots of talk and reminiscing about Montreal, the Pointe, and so on. We slept well, happy to be back with old friends and in a favourite city.

 

 

The next day, after a great breakfast, we headed out to the Leonard Cohen exhibit at the MAC (Musée d’Art Contemporain). We got there when it opened at 11, and were met by a long line of people looking for tickets to the exhibit that morning. We had bought our tickets beforehand, so were able to go right in. First stop we made was to a ten-foot diameter “room” where there was a humming of “Hallelujah”; you stood inside, and the humming was going on, and you were encouraged to pick up one of the mikes and join in. Many did, and it was actually quite magical, and moving. We saw a room where there were many artists, doing covers of Cohen’s songs. We saw a room where there was a movie across many screens of him singing at various times in his career. We saw a room where there was recorded many interviews with him during his life, from the 1970’s to the 2010’s. We saw a room which was made to look like his main writing room in his Montreal home, complete with typewriter, guitar, chair. And we saw a room where there was a chorus of singers from the synagogue on a screen, and in a  circular room behind this, perhaps twenty large portrait screens of older men singing his songs. Perhaps none of this sounds interesting in writing it, but it was quite emotional for me, for us. Reluctantly, we left at about 2:30, and ended up walking down St-Urbain to Old Montreal. We were looking for a particular coffee shop which we had been told about, and found it, but it was unable to seat us, so we went to McGill Plaza Deli and Grill for a bite to eat and a coffee. Bought some flowers, and headed back to Claudette’s to get ready for supper on top of Place Ville-Marie. We got there (to PVM) by taking the metro a ways, the walking through the underground city. Boy, what a complex of shops and walkways! You could get lost without any difficulty. Again, Claudette was a good guide, and we arrived safely, going up to the top and looking out over the city. We were blessed with a clear sky, so we could see a long ways.

     The meal was not great, but the atmosphere and views were, so a memorable evening. Back to the apartment, some more talk and some more wine before heading to bed.

 

The next morning, after breakfast, we headed by transit down to Pointe St-Charles. What followed was a tour of the part of the quartier that mattered to us, with Claudette as a very good tour guide. We saw the “Building 7”, an old CN building which was destined to be torn down, before the community organized and petitioned the City to buy it and give it to them (which the city did), and which is to be a community resource, with community rooms, art galleries, stores for fresh vegetables, and so on: our political activism of forty years ago carried on. We saw the clinic building I worked in, now destitute (owned by the Parish, who has no plan for it).

 

We saw our old house, in pretty good shape overall.

 

We walked and walked, ending up on Centre Street, and stopping for lunch at a Mexican Restaurant (the Cafe Cantina) for quite a good lunch.

 

Then back to the apartment, packed and got the Metro to Vendome to meet the Risachers for the following “leg” of our journey. They met us and drove us to their place, where we settled in quite comfortably into a long and quite close conversation including how they are doing with the loss of Electra at this point, and how their own retirement is coming along. Again, a great meal, lots of wine, and a late bedtime. So the next morning was somewhat later in getting started than we had planned. Darlene’s visit to Quakers was out, and the Risachers volunteered to drive us right to Bruce and Elizabeth’s house.

 

Now, when we knew we were going to be in Montreal, we had contacted Jeannie and Hugh to see if they might be interested in coming into town. They siad they would, and would like to see us and Bruce and Elizabeth. So we asked Liz and she said they could come for supper on the Sunday. So far, so good. We had also talked to Donna Cherniak (who was one of the folks who insisted we see the Cohen exhibit). She and Denis were going to be in Toronto with family, but would be coming through the Montreal area on their way home - on Sunday. So we called Liz again, and our four became six, became eight.

 

 

We arrived at Bruce and Elizabeth’s about 2, said our hello’s, amd settled in. Jean and Hugh arrived not long after. Four of us (Jean, Hugh, Liz and myself) decided to walk up to Mount Royal in the afternoon, before supper. We set out, braving the cold wind, but enjoying the blue skies. The snow, we were told, had melted a fair bit, but there was still a lot of it (fortunately not so much on the paths). And we walked up to the observation platform overlooking Montreal.

     

(Note the Cohen mural on the building partway down the hill.)

 

Then back to the house, and we enjoyed a long talk about Jean and High’s trip to New Zealand and Viet Nam, and various connections we had. Lots of memories about the past, about the Pointe, about the time forty years ago.

 

Just about on time at 6, Donna came with Denis. And then the connections got more complex and complicated. Turns out Bruce had stayed at Donna’s place when he was going out with Donna’s room-mate in the late 60’s. I had stayed with Donna in Montreal when I had come down for something in the late 60’s as well. Denis and Hugh had some connection through farming. Jeannie and Liz were together at Queen’s. Jeannie and I knew each other in Toronto, and then at med school. Donna and I knew each other from Med School.

 

Dinner was served, and we sat down to a wonderful meal of ham, asparagus, scalloped potatoes, and copious amounts of wine. We began with conversation, and somehow transitioned into song: songs of struggle (Joe Hill); songs for fun (Erie Canal); poems of old (the Jabberwalky); songs from camp; songs from Cohen. It would be a gross understatement to say that the night was a success.

 

The other two couples had to leave for their homes about 9, but Bruce, Liz, Darlene and I stayed up for another few hours to cherish the evening.

 

 

The next morning was a slow start, but complemented by a breakfast of eggs Benedict, croissants, and good company. It turns out that this day was Bruce’s 71st birthday, so we celebrated with a card, nice breakfast, and chocolte (of course). When we finished our meal, we headed down to the Atwater Market. Here we perused the stores for cheese, chocolate, coffee, spices, and so on. We even bought a few things. We went down to the Lachine Canal (not far) from there, but it was so cold we did not stay long.

 

And then back to Highland for a brief lunch before walking down to visit with Manny and Chris. Manny had just undergone a knee replacement about ten days before, and Chris had been put into the role of nurse once again. Manny was up and around when we got there, but was not able to stay alert and sociable for too long, so we stayed about two hours and then left. They have a good place for them: single floor, able to be lived on as a single floor, and adequate for their needs. They have lived there for about two years now (seems recent to us). When we left, we were on our way back up the hill to Bruce and Elizabeth’s, but partway up, Darlene gratefully accepted a ride from Bruce.

 

That evening was a supper made from left-overs, aided by the Hollandaise sauce from the morning, and some fresh asparagus. And a birthday cake with maple syrup ice cream. Also some more wine. After dinner, we adjourned to the living room,where Liz produced her dulcimer and we began another evening of song and music. Late again to bed once more.

 

 

Today we woke to a house without Bruce: he had gone out for a 17-km run with his friends. We had our breakfast with Liz, talked some more, and planned the day. We took off, dropped our bags at the station, went up to St-Viateur Bagel for supplies for home, 

and then said our good-bye’s to those two good hosts, with a promise to see them again sometime soon.

 

We had a lunch at Schwartz’s Deli, and decide we needed and wanted to wlk to the station, which we did. We there met with Claudette again, partly to return a forgotten iPad charger, and partly to have a coffee and plan for seeing each other again.

 

 

And then on the train, and here we are heading back to Dundas.