After the wonderful delights of the bard, it was a bit of a slog back East towards Ottawa.
Not really a slog as such. It’s only 650 k, but I’m in no hurry so I dawdle along for a few days. Not much to report, the highlight of the drive is a short trip on the Glenora Ferry. Oh and my left forearm is turning a dark mahogany from all the sun whilst driving.
I don’t like saying bad things about a city, but for mine Ottawa is probably one of the worst cities (with Birmingham, AL) that I have encountered so far. It’s not offensive as such, but it’s just nothing. It has all the vibrancy of Canberra, the riverside squalor of an abandoned port, drivers like sugar rushing 4 year olds on dodgems and the attitude of a drunken adolescent after losing their virginity.
It probably doesn’t help that a quick brake check (for a sinking pedal) ends up in a 2 day saga due to the fix not being done properly the first time. I’m not charged for the re-work, but I sit for 2 days, without Charlotte. Thanks Canadian Tire.
It has little to redeem it, and I am quick to both judge and move on.
<Nothing to see here>.
Montreal is next, but how to get there. I am so accustomed to finding an Anytime Fitness anywhere to freshen up, that it’s a bit of a surprise that they appear to be much much less common in Canada. It’s been a couple of days (kind assessment) so my route is determined by the location of said Anytime Fitness establishments, and there is one in Cornwall, ON.
Importantly it also has a Walmart, vital because it is a Friday night and the Hawks Saturday AFL game will be streaming sometime around midnight due to the time difference. It may have only been against the Lions, but what else can I do at midnight on a friday night in a small town (without getting on the proverbial). Which I have started to cut back on.
I get there just as the sun is setting, luxuriate in a hot shower for the first time in a while before finding the correct position in Walmart’s car park to leech wi-fi, that stops lamps shining directly in, and may endure against the rising sun for a small while in the morning. It goes without saying the Hawks win comfortably.
The next day starts early – around these parts it gets light before 6. I snooze for a while, but soon enough Charlotte is warm enough to sweat in – there is a forecast for high 30s heat today. I manage to find shelter elsewhere and kip until about 11, then figure I need lunch, which is dutifully food but not all that exciting.
From there it’s a short discovery tour of Cornwall. I drive past the local baseball game (seems High School level) so I jump out and watch a few innings. The locals lose.
By this time the heat has really and truly set in and my left forearm is starting to seriously burn. Not that I have sunscreen, of course, so I have to source that next. Suitably protected I drive around looking for a shady spot to sit by the river.
That lasts all of maybe 40 mins before I’m sweaty and hot (despite the shade) so I decide to find somewhere indoors to cool my heels.
Cornwall has it’s own local brewhouse – Rurban Brewing, (a combination of RURal and urBAN I later find out), so it’s there I head.
Not air conditioned, very small, no bar to sit at as such – they just pour small 1 oz/30 ml samples from cans kept in a chilled bucket, but it’s inside. And the beer is cold. And ridiculously good. I chat for a while, the owner gives me a tour of the place, but then they are closing so it’s back into the heat I venture.
I really want to sit by the St. Lawrence River on such a beautiful day, and google tells me there is a pub on the waterfront about 30 mins away so it’s there I head.
I’m just dawdling along the river bank, listening to the radio, when the local presenter gets on, announcing that he is broadcasting from the revamped patio deck of the Jet Set Pub at the Nav Centre in Cornwall.
There are 5 bucks beers, live music, some prizes to be given out – it sounds just like what I’m looking for. Google tells me this place is about 3 mins back down the road so I ditch the original plan and succumb to the lure of the advertised shennanigans.
The Nav Centre is an odd place to find in Cornwall. It is effectively a 400 room complex, where many of the people employed in the flight industry (air traffic controllers, pilots, navigators etc) come for training and conferences.
It’s set on huge grounds overlooking the St.Lawrence, and I suppose being no more than 2 hours from either one of Ottawa and Montreal it is a sensible location, but I never would have guessed it was there based on the town itself.
I find my way to the bar and patio – it’s delightful – both sunny and shady, with cool breezes running off the water to the top of the hill it’s sitting on. There are maybe 40 people there, the live music is setting up, so I grab a beer and settle outside. Unfortunately I can only find a partially shady spot, and it’s about one beer in when the sun moves enough to start burnishing my skin again.
I head inside, start watching the the last bit of the European Cup final (completely forgot it was on, so nice con-incidence), when a guy comes and asks if it’s ok to switch to the baseball and see if the Blue Jays hav beaten the Red Sox. They have – in a massive 10-9 comeback after being 8-3 down after the 7th.
My accent gives me away though and soon enough I’m explaining why an Australian is sitting in an out of the way bar in a conference centre in Cornwall. When I explain that I just responded to the radio ad, there is a little cheer – the group that were checking the scores included the radio presenter himself – so I was validation that the campaign worked.
As you do, I get chatting to a few of the guys, swapping stories etc. One of the guys, Ian, has himself travelled for the better part of his twenties, including stays in Australia. He’s a great bloke, and I find out he is the food and beverage manager here, after finally settling down with his wife and baby boy.
He has to excuse himself – this is his re-branding of the bar (apparently even the locals don’t really know its there), and he has to mingle and press the flesh. He enquires if I’m staying for a few drinks, to which I reply it’s likely and that I’ll just head out to the car park to sleep it off if I have too many.
2 minutes later he pops back and asks me if I’d like to sleep in a nice bed for the night. Somewhat taken aback I simply say sure, not really aware of what he is offering. 15 mins later he’s back and it’s all sorted – he’s comping me a room and dinner at the buffet. He’s even gone to the trouble of checking the room himself, turning on the air con because it had been sunlight all day, and tells me there is a little surprise in the room for me (which turns out to be a lovely red).
I’m humbled and thank him profusely, but he is very laid back and tells me not to worry. He eventually heads out with his wife and boy, but not before making an effort to come and say goodbye.
The rest of the night is a blast. Sitting on the patio I meett a whole bunch of people, including neighbouring couples who didn’t know each other were there, but who both sat and chatted to me for ages. Dinner is pretty good too – including the wine that I wasn’t charged for (sorry about that Ian, I did offer)
Eventually it’s time to hit the hay – A shower (that I can walk out of naked), a perfectly chilled room, tv, a bottle of red. There is only one thing that could make the situation better, and I’m not sure even Ian has the power to provide that.
I’m suitably chuffed, humbled, relaxed and thankful before dropping off to seep.
Travel really broadens and develops people. Whatever kindness they have in them grows, whatever anger diminishes. It’s that shared experience of being in a strange place at a strange time that brings out the humanity in humans, and has been so since the start of time.
People who have travelled really are brilliant people.
