Date: Sun, 18 May 1997 23:39:00 -0400 From: Charlie Ford Subject: Oh Canada!!! On Wednesday a week ago I left Michael Lewis's home in Seattle and headed up to Canada to meet Tobin and Christa Copely and their new offspring Russell. I had looked forward to meeting them since my journey first began back in January. Tobin sent me a message back then explaining that "I had a friend in Canada". Indeed he was not telling a lie. I struck out about 10:00 am with the intention of reaching Vancouver sometime mid-afternoon. I had spoken with Tobin the night before and he had given me extensive, although almost confusing directions to his apartment in the city. the directions he gave had more twist and turns than a black snake on hot sand, but all in all after they were followed to the tee, I found the Copely homplace. I drove north along interstate 5 out of Seattle. A beautiful day greeted me with sunshine and blue skies, which in all honesty was a very welcome site. The predictions for the weekend were good as per the TV weather dude, but I have learned to not put much faith in these folks, especially if they are predicting the Pacific Northwest. Anyway, I drove along, listening to some tunes and enjoying the fact that I, this south Georgia boy, was heading toward "The Great White North". I remember in the 70's when SCTV was on television. This Variety comedy show was the closest rival to Saturday Night Live and the "not ready for prime time players". SCTV bred such comedians as John Candy, and Bob and Doug McKensie. It was hilarious TV! I kept wondering how the border crossing would go. I had cleaned up the Mothership the night before and had dressed her up for the occasion of my virgin border crossing. I made sure there was nothing out of place and nothing that could be considered contraband. I stopped in the city of Blair, Washington on my way up. This is the last exit before entering the Canadian Province of British Columbia and gas is cheap here. When you hit Canada the value of the American dollar rises to a whopping $1.40, but so do the prices for everything you buy. A pack of cigarettes cost around $5.00, gas usually hovers around $2.00 est. per gallon. The Canadians love to see those American dollars come across the counter. Most of the time if you have not already exchanged your money at the border, the best exchange rate you will get is about $1.30. I guess the store owner wants to make sure they get their fair share of the profit. I really didn't mind that so much. I have learned that greed runs pretty deep most anywhere you go, whether it be America or abroad. When I finally did pull up to the border crossing I was greeted by a gentleman sitting in a little booth. He asked me where I was going?; why was I going there?; and how long was I going to be doing it?. I explained each question complete with hand gestures. He smiled and explained to me that I needed to pull over to the little yellow lanes so that immigration could ask me some questions and take a look at my vehicle. I said "yes sir" and preceded to the little yellow lanes. When one drives a VW bus, has a beard, mediocre long hair, and is as big as I am (6.4, 280lbs), one expects to be pulled over and questioned every now and then. This time I found myself feeling a bit more paranoid than usual after all, I was crossing a border. As I recall a few weeks back there was a great debate and discussion on "Cops and Busses". I really didn't have an opinion then on such issues, mainly because I get pulled over anyway. Even if I were driving a Mercedes, some cop would look at me and go, "Hmmmm.......that guy does drugs...or knows someone who does." So far in my bus I haven't been stopped but expect it any day. I got out of the bus after reaching the yellow lanes. I headed down to the immigration man to see what he had to ask me. I walked in the door and quickly discovered the immigration man was a woman. I stepped up to the counter and started my scrutiny. She asked, not smiling at all, Why are you coming to Canada? I explained "I was going to visit friends in Vancouver". She asked, "Who are your friends?", I said "Tobin and Christa Copely". She asked, "How much money do you have?", I told her I had about $500.00. She asked "how long would I be staying in Canada?", I said "only about a week". She told me to leave my license with her and go down to the search and seizure office so I could have my vehicle inspected. I walked all the way back down the sidewalk to the inspectors office and explained to them I needed to have my vehicle searched. They repeated the same questions she had just asked me, I repeated the same answers I had given her, and they commenced the search of the Mothership. I showed them all of the nooks and crannies and cabinets. they searched about 5 minutes and said "your fine". I said "well thank you, but did you find anything in my bus?". They didn't catch the joke right away, but then they looked at each other and laughed. We all laughed, then I walked back down the long sidewalk, picked up my license, walked back to my bus and pulled out, waving them all a hearty good-bye, and wishing them a Merry Christmas, under my breath of course. They smiled and waved, probably saying under their breath, "damn southerner". I was back on the road and driving in British Columbia. Wow! what a rush, my first ferin (foreign in southern) country. The speed limit signs in Canada are all in the metric system. Therefore if one is going 60 mph, one is going 100 km. This was a little disconcerting to me since all of my petty life i have used the mph line on the speedometer. I had to pay close attention to what line I was looking at. Pretty soon I became an expert Canadian driver, although I was quite thankful that they drove on the same side of the road as we in America do. It would have been hell for me to learn two things at once. I arrived in Vancouver at around 2:00 PM. I was immediately greeted by heavy traffic and all sorts of folks looking at my bus as I went by them. I think it may have been the Georgia tags that got their attention. Kids would pass in cars and wave and smile. I am sure they had not seen too many of them in Vancouver, and I was quite proud to have the most distant tag around. I was also quite proud to be driving this fine bus called the Mothership, for she and God had brought me to this far away land. My furthermost point yet. As a kid in Georgia, my sisters and I would sit in the front yard and watch the cars that passed. We would look to see where the tags were from. Every once in I great while we would see one pass and it would be from Canada. We just thought that was the finest thing. One time a car pulled into our drive and asked my Grandfather for directions. The fellow that got out of the car talked funny, and upon further observation, we saw the Canadian plates. That experience only served to enhance my already growing wanderlust. You just didn't see many far away tags in south Georgia, it was a thrill. I followed the directions that Tobin had given me and eventually reached his apartment building. Tobin, Christa, and Russell live in a high rise that overlooks the bay to the west. In the evening you can sit on the balcony and adore beautiful sunsets filled with amazing colors. You can see the mountains to the north and the city to the south and east. High on the mountain you can see ski slopes. over the mountains you can see other mountain peaks seemingly peeking over to see the city. Vancouver is a marvelous city. I rung the apartment on the phone downstairs. Christa answered the phone and buzzed the door. She met me at the door and gave me a hug. This is the great thing about this list. Even if the folks don't know you personally, they give you a hug. We sat down and talked a bit. Tobin got home about 4:30 PM and we all sat down to one of the finer meals of my journey. Christa is a gourmet cook and she had outdone herself by mixing up a meal of Cioppino ( I think that is how you spell it). We ate and enjoyed each others company. They are really great people! If you ever meet them you will see what I mean. After supper Tobin and I went down stairs and got me settled in the underground garage. One great thing about sleeping underground is that there is no noise, and if it rains you don't know it. The downside was that it remains the same brightness all the time. When you go to sleep you just remain there until you wake up, the sun doesn't greet you at all. of course the car fumes and the echo are not to lovely either, but you figure out how to get past the bad side. The next morning I broke out my dingy. My mountain bike has traveled with me ever since I left Georgia. I ride it now and then, but now that the weather is getting right, I can ride it much more. I set it up and headed out. I rode for about three hours. there is a nice trail that runs beside the park that runs along the Bay in Vancouver. Vancouver overall is fairly "bike friendly". the traffic is not so bad and the people are generally pretty good about watching you. I rode and rode and then realized that Christa had told me that Glen and Carron, also from the list were coming over for dinner. I headed back and got to the apartment about ten minutes before they arrived. Meeting new people always makes me nervous. I am not to impressive, at least I don't think so, and here I was late and suffering from "riders rush". "Riders rush" for those of you that don't know what I mean is that rush or high you get from working out for the first time in a while. it is almost the same as "runners high". I excused myself to take a shower. When I got out I was still in that nervous mode. I couldn't seem to calm down. I know they thought I had done a line of coke or something before I got in, but I had not. I don't do coke! I hadn't even smoked anything, which I will take the fifth on that issue. Actually I have nothing against the pot thing. Some of you may not agree with me, but to this day I have never heard of anyone killing anybody after smoking a joint. But, at any rate, I was as straight as I could be! I swear! We sat down to a dinner of Lasagna, in fact some of the best damned Lasagna I have ever had the privilege of eating. Christa had just outdone herself again. We ate and enjoyed great wine. Glen and Carron had brought some called Frog Leap or something like that. I am not much of a wine connoisseur, but it was quite tasty and settled on the pallet a lot better than Ripple or MD 20/20. After dinner we got into some very serious conversation concerning women and men, and the issues that surround the two species. Sexual harassment is a grave problem in society today and we all had varied opinions concerning the issue. I don't think it would be right for me to voice mine here, The other participants are not here to voice theirs. At any rate, it was one of the best most thoughtful conversations I have been in for quite a long time. What was so amazing is that we all respected and still like one another in the end. I think that is what matters the most. There is a common thread that runs in each of us. The problem most of the time is that we tend to quit searching for it when we find out that someone doesn't think like we do, or have the same opinion we do. In a world that seems to promote the acceptance of diversity, we don't seem to practice at times what we preach. On Saturday Tobin, Christa, Russell and myself headed out for Whistler Canada. Whistler is a city about 70 miles north of Vancouver. We camped on the banks of the Cheakamus River, just about 100m up from where it meets Callaghan Creek. This area is just south of Whistler. The official name of the site is the Cal Cheak Forest Service Recreation Site, but many years ago someone stole the "C"s from the sign so now everybody refers to it as "Al Heak". Sign altering is a bit of a national past-time here, I guess. There was also a sign by the suspension bridge warning of "orgasms" in the water. The highway we took up from Vancouver is Hwy. 99, also known as the "Sea to Sky Highway". The drive was lovely, taking you through the mountains beside lakes and rivers and snow capped mountains. Tobin and Christa retired early but I was still a bit restless. I heard singing coming from a camp across the way so I headed out to meet some new folks. I strode bravely into the camp. The guys standing around the fire were doing a rousing rendition of Tom Petty's "Last Chance with Mary Jane'. I stood and listened. After it was finished and slayed properly by the amateurs singin', we introduced ourselves. They all got a kick out of the fact I was from Georgia. I explained to them what I was doing, and they explained to me what they were doing. The two guys that owned the campsite were named ironically Rob and Doug. here I was in "The Great White North" and who do I meet but a couple of Hozers named Rob and Doug. I immediately thought of Bob and Doug of SCTV. These fine Canadian backwoods partiers used "aye" at the end of each sentence. In other words they would say something like "so your from the south aye", then follow it with 'How far from home are you aye". I totally enjoyed listening to these country boys of the north. Just plain old guys with a need for the great outdoors. I sat around drank a beer (Canadian Molson) and went over to the site and dropped off to sleep. The next morning I decided to hang out one more night at the campground. I needed to be around these guys some more so I could have more material to write in this post. Tobin, Christa, and Russell needed to get back to Vancouver so they wrote me out some directions and left about noon for home. I laid around most of the afternoon listening to the cascading river that ran beside our fine campsite. It was most relaxing and gratifying. I took a little nap and decided to drive up the dirt road that ran beside the camp. I drove a ways but turned back because the washouts became way to deep, and I didn't want to risk the Mothership being injured. That night a good time was had by all. I found out that one of the guys, Rob, had lived in the campground for the past 6 years. he left in the winter only to return in the spring to once again set camp. he explained that it really wasn't too bad, but you had to move your camp every 14 days. Rob is a concrete finisher that does most of his work in Whistler. He drives to town and works three days a week, and the rest of the time he is at the campground drinking beer and hanging out. They were fine folks, but I am not sure I could live that sort of life. I am not sure I could live in a campground, in a tent for that long. Maybe I am spoiled with comfort, but I will eventually return to living in a house. I kinda like it that way. To each his/her own. I drove back to Vancouver the next day with the Mothership skipping and grunting in bad need of a tune-up. More on this in the next post. Thanks for tolerating my rambling's. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.armory.com/~y21cvb/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"