(wow, the past 7 days have been uber eventful... I've finally settled down in an artsy Montréal cafe on Avenue St. Laurent, and can at long last update this journal!) Days 4-10Day 4 (April 30): 1000km down (2600km overall)
So after recovering, relaxing, and partying in Calgary for a few days, we were ready to head out. We left Theresa's Aunt Shelly's place (Aunt Shelly is pictured here in the orange shirt, hanging out with us on the Red Mile-- yep, she's damn cool). Driving east along the Trans Canada in the drizzly weather, we went through Medicine Hat-- one of the many prairie towns that I knew only through hockey (Trevor Linden played junior hockey for the Medicine Hat Tigers). The local youth at the gas station said there was little to do, except for a plethora of hiking and mountain biking trails (yes, flat ones-- we're in the prairies) and the world's tallest tippee. Driving on through the prairies spawned countless driving conversations on topics from the mundane to the profound, from naming the world's countries and capitals to life, religion, the global pharmaceutical industry, the nature of altruism, and the potentially
cliched 'meaning of life' (why, to give life meaning, of course!). Every so often, we'd take a photostop (both Adham and me, but especially Adham, are into photography-- I'll be posting my artistic SLR photos later, these ones were taken with Adham's digital), and at one point, I pulled over and we spent over half an hour shooting an abandonned Saskatchewan farm (certainly
not a rare find), complete with a ski-doo, grain elevator, and more! The first major Saskatchewan town we came to was Swift Current, a farming mecca by our measure (every farming equipment company you can imagine-- John Deere, Cat, and way more-- had acres of tractors lining the sides of the Trans Canada as we entered town. Once there, we parked "downtown", and strolled around. We hadn't yet met our 'timmy ho's' quota (at least one Tim Hortons/province, usually far more) for Saskatchewan, so we swung by there for the standard toasted everything bagel and coffee (by that point, I had tried my first double-double-- quite outstanding, really-- which, did you know, is in the Canada Oxford Dictionary--
that's Canadiana).
Now, a little piece of advice for you city guys, it seems that girls from small towns dream of the city and everything associated with it. Case in point: Jaime, a server at the Swift Current Tim Hortons, had, by Theresa's impartial account, a huge crush on both Adham and I (surely not the only Tim Hortons gal along the way), and went out of her way to ignore customers and talk to us about anything and everything (it also seems that in small towns, hollywood films play an integral role in the perception of cities-- she named several cities, including Vancouver and Berlin, that she wanted to visit because of movies set there). In any case, she was cute and very sweet-- we're planning on sending her a postcard from Montreal.
We kept driving through the prairies, racking up the kilometres, and stopped briefly that night
in Regina-- the Saskatchewan capital-- at the provincial legislature, where we did some tripod night photography, chased (and nearly caught) a rabbit (Theresa's the only vegetarian), and-- with as much respect as I could muster-- mounted the queen (as you can tell, Adham had something going with her horse). After the Regina double-double, we continued our cruise-controlled driving of the Trans Canada (although the route was straight, the prairies had a few bumps in them-- it wasn't until Manitoba that it was
completely flat on the Trans Canada). But, as the joke goes (3 different people said it to us along the way), the prairies are a place where, when your dog runs away, you can watch it go for days.
While I slept in the back, Adham and Theresa drove on, until the tank neared empty. Arriving in the small Saskatchewan town of Moosomin-- which had gas stations, none of which were open-- they pulled aside and we slept in the car for a couple hours until sunrise...
Day 5 (May 1): 400km down (3000km overall) 
We woke up in the gas station parking lot in Moosomin, filled up the Trooper, and I drove on through the rainy weather-- not before exploring Moosomin a bit (throughout the trip, I would take random diversions to drive through small communities-- a good way to explore, and get lost), including an amazing old little community hospital. Past the Manitoba border we drove, through a town called 'Alexander' (complete with an 'Alexander' grain elevator, general store, and school), and stopped in Brandon (near where my Granny Alieta grew up).
There, while driving through the town of 45,000 on the main street, we drove by a random pancake breakfast which I spotted and Theresa enthusiatically agreed to join me to. Leaving a sleeping Adham in the car, we walked in to discover the launch of a $400,000 twelve-unit low income housing project funded by all three levels of government, called 'U-turn 3' (the third in a series).
The project had been initiated by the Westman 'Youth for Christ' group (churches and church groups, as I would discover, play a key role in building
community in the prairies) in order to address the 'hidden homelessness' of Brandon, numbered at over 400 ('hidden homelessness' refers to people who migrate around town, sleeping on friends' couches for example). The event had drawn numerous media (see left side of photo) including the CBC, as well as the MP and MLA for Brandon who both spoke with a city councillor.
The project organizer told a story of a girl from Brandon who had been at risk (poor) several years before, but hadn't had the option of 'U-turn' low income housing. In the end, she ended up living on the streets of Vancouver's downtown eastside as a prostitute. All, it seems, is connected.
Theresa and I spoke to several people there, including Mike, a guy who had originally lived in Langley (where I was born, and lived until I was 13), whose dad had just ran for the leadership of the provincial Progressive Conservatives, and who himself was preparing to run for MLA. He also clarified the time for us (we weren't sure where daylight savings time came into effect), and offered a joke about Saskatchewan's lack of daylight savings time: "Really, who would want to spend another hour of daylight in Saskatchewan?").
As the last sentence of the event press release said, "We invite you to celebrate with us as we take one more step in achieving our dream of a community of Hope, where no young person goes hungry; relationally, physically, or spiritually." Well, amen to that.
We continued on toward Manitoba, through Portage la Prairie (refer to Tim Hortons at right for local geography), and onto Winnipeg. The first destination in Winnipeg was 'The Forks', a Granville Island-esque market at the junction of the Red and Assiniboine rivers. It was a great introduction to Winnipeg and the city's ethnic diversity (pretty much all mainstream cultural food was represented, plus more). Behind the market, the Red river stood tall-- according to merchants, it was "still quite high", having 
receded after significant flooding in early April, though nowhere near the height it had been during the 1997 floods which had destroyed so many homes (according to one merhant, tourists had come in 1997 to 'The Forks' to watch the water rise... kinda sadistic, if you ask me). Integral to experiencing Winnipeg, and 'The Forks', was enjoying some fine Ukranian cuisine, which for me included borscht and perogies (mmm... given how much I like the food, it's hard to believe I'm only 1/8 Ukranian). The Ukranian merchant noted, with a hint of displeasure, that the Phillipino population had recently overtaken the Ukranian population as Winnipeg's largest ethnic group.
From 'The Forks', we walked through a nice boutique hotel and lounge (ha, not to stay in, but scouting it out for a place to catch the game that night-- it reminded me of Vancouver's Opus and Elixir combo), and caught a free bus into the downtown core (yes, Winnipeg's main buses are free-- certainly something Vancouverites would envy). Strolling downtown, we 
discovered a few things. One, most shops in Winnipeg are closed on Sunday and Monday-- which made for some disappointment that Monday. Another, Winnipeg has a very large heritage district, strolled by cobblestone and full of charmingly romantic older buildings (like Vancouver's Gastown, only like 6 times larger), which house a vibrant Winnipeg Arts community.
En route to our destination Winnipeg hostel which our trusty Canada guidebook had yielded, we drove through the central business core of Winnipeg, which itself was fairly unspectacular, aside from the law courts and a few elegant hotels.
After rejecting the first hostel (too expensive), we found a private room at the next one for the three of us at a reasonable $66 (3 beds), where we cooked dinner, chatted with fellow travellers (mostly Canadian, one British chap who we watched the Flames game with and introduced to shuffleboard: "Not as fun as I would have thought"). I think we scared some of the other hostellers with our Flames enthusiam (I had my shirt, and we were waving the car flag madly at key points in the game... which Calgary lost, necessitating a final seventh game to decide the first round series with Anaheim).
Day 6 (May 2): 700km down (3700km overall)
So we left our hostel (pictured at left) mid-morning, the next day, and drove past Winnipeg's growing 'burbs into the sun-laden horizon. Picking up gas in Ste. Anne, we also picked up Andre, a cute little old frenchman, originally from Montreal, who was on his way to Ottawa to paint a school for his uncle (a school superintendent). Apparently he had hitchhiked throughout Canada, and so was a fine guide along the way. He remarked several times on BC's absolute beauty (every year he gets there at least once), but noted that BC could also stand for 'Bring Cash'. 
Reflecting on his travels, Andre decried the death of small cities throughout Canada-- 'ghost towns' such as Hells Gate in BC or Schefferville in Northern Quebec (along the Labrador border)-- and suggested that the federal government needs to play a larger role in promoting and supporting small towns.
Around Hadeshville in eastern Manitoba came the first rocks of the Canadian shield, and from there into Ontario, the geography changed rapidly, from prairie fields to trees and muskeg marshland. We were in bear and moose territory now, and Andre made sure to warn us of the dangers of getting out of the Trooper if we encountered either (a girl had been maimed by a bear while her parents were taking pictures of a black bear in that area several years before).
As we drove on through northwestern Ontario on the Trans Canada, we entered the region where the lakes of Ontario begin. And WoW. I've never quite seen lakes like that. Around every corner is another spectacularly blue lake, with summer cabins and docks waiting to be dived off, and boats waiting to be taken out fishing. Past Kenora we drove, which marks the northernmost point of 'Lake of the Woods', and where the population quadruples in the summer with fisherman from the US (apparently '1000 Island' dressing originated from there too, too bad-- a less-than-satisfying dressing in my humble opinion). Perhaps while canoeing in lakes such as these, Pierre Berton noted, commenting on the Canadian identity, "Canadians are those who know how to make love in a canoe."
We drove on, through Dryden, and on towards Thunder Bay, stopping on the way at Kakabeka falls-- a spectacular set of waterfalls with flat plateaus of smooth black rock, with water cascading hundreds of feet down. And about an hour before Thunder Bay, a sign marked the Atlantic watershed, the point beyond which all waterways flow into the Atlantic ocean. Along the way, we were hit by a wall of fog, instigated by Lake Superior, which stuck around until the afternoon the following day.
In Thunder Bay, we found the cheapest gas of the trip so far-- 100.6 cents/L. Pretty cheap, I know. There, we met up with Adham's buddy Ben, who generously let us stay at his place overnight. We went out to Boston Pizza, and enjoyed what the BPs in BC don't serve-- 32oz 'schooner' mugs of beer. Yes, and if you haven't caught on yet-- you will soon-- drinking good beer has also been a theme of the trip. Talking to Ben, Thunder Bay seems like about the perfect city-- there's great rock climbing, water sports (sailing, windsurfing, fishing), hockey (frozen public rinks on most streets in the winter), skiing, and more-- plus, houses are cheap! Sounds nearly perfect (if you can stand the cold in the winter).
Day 7 (May 3): 700km down (4300km overall)
Ben took us to finest breakfast cuisine in town-- the Scandanavian House-- where we feasted on Finnish pancakes and strawberries, eggs and sausages, and black coffee. It turns out that Thunder Bay has the largest Finnish population in the world for a city outside of Finland, which, given my interest in northern Europe (good social and environmental programs, and reasonably strong-- specialized-- economies, despite high tax rates), was pretty cool. After, we cruised the Finnish district, where I bought me a $5 Finnish flag (which I proceeded to fly outside the car window wherever we drove in town), went for a hike at Cascadia falls (another pretty spectacular cascading waterfall), and then went on to experience something truly Finnish (and truly Thunder Bay), the public sauna.
And WoW. Do the Fins ever know how to do a good sauna-- and a hot one too-- the temperature for us got up to 70 degrees Celsius (yep, really hot). And, to quench the thirst, we took in some good Brahma Brazilian beer. Brahma in the sauna. Not only is it legal, but they sell beer when you rent the sauna. When we needed to cool down, it was either into the hot tub, or under the shower... before going back in the sauna.
From there, we dropped by the local fishing/hunting shop, where I picked up some
fishing tackle and an Ontario fishing license (for upcoming opportunities), then to the local ice cream shoppe that Ben had raved about (yep, it was a very good smooth swirl cone), took some photos of Lake Superior, and went back to Ben's place for a parting game of ladder golf (basically, you throw two golf balls attached together by a 1 foot piece of rope at a PVC ladder-- if it hooks around, you get points), which the team of Ben/Adham dominated (poor Alex/Theresa).
We got back on the road, departing Thunder Bay, but not before stopping at the Terry Fox statue
on the bluffs of Thunder Bay. As you may recall, Thunder Bay had been the community that Terry had been forced to stop his Marathon of Hope at, due to the progression of his cancer. It was pretty inspiring to stand there, and bear witness to the enormity of his accomplishment-- beyond the sheer physical accomplishment, the everlasting legacy of the Terry Fox Foundation and his annual run, which happens all over the world, raising money for cancer research. Terry, as an SFU student like Adham and I, had trained for his marathon of hope on many of the same roads and trails that I run at home in Port Moody.
After leaving the Terry Fox site, we took off east on the Trans Canada. Just as we accelerated, Adham decided to roll down the window to take a picture. As he did, our Calgary Flames window flag-- which we'd flown all the way from Calgary-- fell off, and onto the road. It was the most tense moment for me of the trip. My heart pounded. My nervous system entered 'fight or flight' mode. I knew we had to do something. Cars and trucks were pounding the pavement down the highway, preparing to pancake the poor flames flag and car mount. So we stopped. And Adham got out. And ran. And ran. Waving off trucks and cars, he hoped that they'd avoid the flag. And he got it, all in one piece. I was so relieved. But it still took nearly half an hour for my heart rate to come down. I mean, this was game day for game seven of Calgary's first round series, and I couldn't think of a worse omen.
We drove on, through the picturesque western Ontario landscape, 
marked by a vibrant red rock that I thought was only found in the Grand Canyon.
All the while, it's worth pointing out, Theresa did have to put up with two guys.
And wow. That must have been challenging. But she was a trooper.
So we drove on, increasingly driven by a desire to find a Tim Hortons. We reached Marathon, a small town 5km off the Trans Canada, where, I was sure, there would be a Tim Hortons. But no. There wasn't. In fact, we had to settle for a Robin's Donuts, which, according to Adham, smelled a lot like poop (it did). What was kinda interesting about it was that it had an entire closed off smoking room that you had to be over 18 to enter-- some sort of city bylaw, I presumed. Talking to the Robin's donuts woman (definitely less cute than Tim Hortons'), it turns out that the new Robins owner was on city council, and that the smoking room would be shut down shortly to make for a 100% smoke free restaurant.
Driving on from Marathon, there was a ski lift along side the Trans Canada (like right beside, at a truck stop), for a hill called 'Superior Slopes'. I bet that's the only lift beside the Trans Canada in all of Canada.
Along the way, we encountered some of the most spectacular scenary and wildlife of the trip,
including moose, a bear, and a pretty spectacular sunset (that a digital camera just can't capture).
With the deadline of the Flames game beginning at 10pm EST, we aimed for Sault Ste. Marie to watch the game (where Wayne Gretzky played junior hocky), but ended up stopping in Wawa (means 'goose' in Objibwai... hence several giant goose statues throughout town), which incidentally is the home town of Chris Simon, the Calgary Flames resident tough guy. So we took in the game at the Wawa Motor Inn, where, luckily, it was also wings night. Plus, I discovered an extraordinarily tasty dark beer-- Red Maple-- which presumably is sold only in Ontario (it has a subtle maple sirop aftertaste). There was also a 'Wawa girls' pinup calendar that I bought for Adham. He was pretty excited about it. Anyway, the night looked good. But then Calgary lost. Well, actually, they just didn't show up. And it was sad. Especially because we were waving our flag and were clearly the biggest Flames fans in that pub. Once they lost, I ran a 'losing lap' around the pub, then around the motel. Apparently a guy said something to Adham, to the tune of, you'd better leave. So we did, and left unbruised physically, though terribly distraught over the loss of the game. Adham drove though the foggy night, slow enough to avoid any moose on the Trans Canada (there were lots of warning signs).
Day 8 (May 4): 900km down (5200km overall)
Adham drove through to Sault Ste. Marie, at which point he woke me up (it was around 2:30am), I grabbed a double-double from the first Tim Hortons in 700km (since Thunder Bay), and drove on through the early morning. It was a long, tough drive, but we made it to the outskirts of Sudbury by 7am.
Sudbury, a town of 155,000 mostly blue-collar workers, is the largest town west until Winnipeg, and it is a town firmly rooted in industry. A meteor likely hit it millions of years ago leaving vast deposits of nickel and other metals, fuelling vast industry throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, and continuing up until now. While Sudbury was one of Canada's major environmental disasters, today it's a success story for recovery: over the past 30 years, over 3 million trees have been planted to recover the mined landscape and clean the air. Still, the smokestacks of industry, beautiful in their necessity, litter the barren landscape. It's a landscape so bleak, in fact, that Buzz Aldren used it in preparation for his Apollo mission to the moon in the 1960s. And yet, for a city that still seems so dirty and so poor, there was an intense beauty in the persevering landscape of Sudbury. Although I don't have any digital photos, I'll certainly post my SLR ones once developed. And they had the busiest Tim Hortons so far-- 18000 'Roll up the rim' winners (that's my measurement of busy-ness). It certainly ain't a Starbucks town. The irony of Sudbury, like much of Africa, is of a region rich in resources and yet vast in poverty-- though the poverty is combatted with an admirably indeterminable spirit.
As the quote that Theresa spotted in the Tim Hortons women's washroom read, "A good friend will come and bail you out of jail-- A true friend will be sitting beside you saying 'Man, we fucked up...'". I think that probably sums up Sudbury.
From there we drove on past the suburbs of Sudbury, through the distinctive white birch forests and marshland, and on to North Bay, an oddly significant town of 55,000 nested on Lake Nipissing (which connects with Georgian bay on Lake Huron). 'Pro-life' banners speckled the city, and churches were dominant along the streets, despite the abundance of downtown nightclubs. Adham was so impressed by the look of the local piercing studio, he nearly got his piercing there... but decided to hold off until Montreal.
We drove on to Algonquin Provincial Park, through the northern entrance, and stopped at 'Algonquin North', an outfitting company, to rent a canoe for the day (one of the hundred things to do in Canada before you die, according to a recent newspaper article in the Vancouver Province). Because we were only taking it out for a few hours, I talked the owner down to half price, and then we drove down to the northern-most lake. While Adham slept in the vibrant sun, Theresa and I set out to canoe around the lake for a few hours (some people go for several week canoeing treks). Theresa had never been canoeing, and we both wanted to canoe Algonquin, so it worked out well. I hooked up my fishing rod, and we set out, paddling against a strong westerly wind.
We paddled for nearly an hour along the coast of the lake, with the wind and waves building steadily. Although we'd talked about it, our balance still wasn't ideal (canoeing, like rowing, depends on paddlings being in sync with each other, and ensuring that they don't shift their weight). Anyway, unfortunately a wave knocked us partway (the shifting weight in the boat pushed it the rest of the way), making for a wet paddle/swim to shore with an overturned canoe. Still, Theresa was a trooper-- we'd discussed how to deal with an overturned canoe beforehand-- and most importantly she didn't panic. After, she was very optimistic about the whole experience (that's her, thumbs up, after flipping). It was the first time tipping for both of us (in my pretty extensive rowing/canoeing experience, I'd never flipped!).
From Algonquin, we drove onward to Ottawa, arriving around 8pm that night, and spent the rest of the evening cruising around the spectacular capital (neither Adham nor Theresa had been there), and kicking around a fair trade soccer ball on the parliament lawn as the clock struck midnight (how's that for a political show of defiance?). After having searched endlessly for a place to eat, only McDonalds was open after midnight in Ottawa (a total contrast with Montreal the following night).
And guess what-- the cheapest gas of the trip by far, at 93.6 cents/L, was in Ottawa. Slightly ironic that the town which houses the nation's politicians also has the cheapest gas eh?
We had dropped by a centrally located hostel earlier, which offered a private apartment for $75/night, which I felt was pretty expensive. So, I had called around, and found a single motel room for $49/night. After getting lost for nearly an hour trying to find it, we arrived, and I walked into the 'Prestige Inn' to find out that, no, there weren't any $49 rooms available that didn't stink of smoke, and that instead, we'd have to pay $59. Which was still $16 better than the hostel. So, I took Adham and Theresa in, and I don't think they were too impressed. (By the way, I neglected to mention that there were only 3 people officially staying in the three-floor Prestige Inn, that the walls were lined with 70's porn-style mirrors on each wall, that homeless people were walking through the building freely, that the manager was a complete con-artist that I argued with for 15 minutes, and that there were two cop cars parked out front). Anyway, this set off a heated argument between Adham and I about how stupid it had been to look for another place after the hostel. Alas, it was the first major argument in our 8 days in close-quarters which ain't too bad, and after some harsh words each way, we resolved it, and understand each other better for it. And in the end, the room wasn't that bad-- nice shower and jacuzzi, comfy bed, and a TV. (note for future: hotels that cost $49/night and are called 'Prestige Inn' probably are scary drug rings)
Day 9 (May 5): 300km down (5500km overall-- $730 in gas from Vancouver to Montreal)
We woke up late, having relied on an alarm clock set to PST (which Adham fortunately picked up on), and rushed off to catch Question Period in Parliament at 11am. Many MPs were absent, including the PM, and the parliamentary secretaries ended up filling in for a number of the ministers. Coming several days after the first Conservative budget, there was lots of fuel for questions. Liberal and NDP critics focussed on the lack of an agricultural focus in the budget, the lack of money for Northern Canada and Aboriginal issues in the budget, and the cuts to Kyoto spending (the entire One Tonne Challenge was cancelled, which, while highly flawed, at least sought to address climate change through awareness). On most issues, the conservatives either pointed to spending to address social issues that (as the Liberal pointed out) was from last year's budget, or said that their decisions were necessitated by Liberal inaction for the past 13 years. Politics as usual, I suppose.
After, I listened in on some of the press scrums, and sat next to Christina Lawande (CBC reporter) as she interviewed Jack Layton. I left the grounds of Parliament, and strolled through Ottawa, and managed to walk right into the Ottawa CBC broadcast centre (like the Saddledome for the Flames game, the secret to getting into places is following someone with a pass, and then walking in with confidence). I sat in the green room for a while with a reporter, listening to Andre Boisclair (leader of the Parti Quebecois) respond to questions about Quebec gaining recognition at UNESCO, then strolled the 3rd floor building, before walking through the news room, and past reporters like Paul Hunter and James Cudmore. Yep, it was pretty cool.
Despite the Ottawa Senators playing that night, there weren't nearly as many hockey banners and car flags in Ottawa (although we sported a newly purchased one-- Adham had already hopped off the losing Calgary bandwagon). Somehow, one has the sense that there are issues of greater importance in Ottawa.
I walked through the National Photographic museum, met with Oxfam's ED briefly, chatted with some UNICEF fundraisers on the street (who didn't know who Carole Bellamy was), bought the french version of 'Suite Francaise' at Chapters, chatted with a guy on the street holding a sign 'Spare some change for a penis enlarger?', then met back up with Adham and Theresa.
We strolled through the (new) National War museum (pretty spectacular, and very informative-- needs a day to see it thoroughly), before driving onto Montreal along the scenic Ottawa river, taking our last border photo and last Tim Hortons ('toujours frais') photo as a group. The road trip, at least for this trio, was almost complete.
Arriving in Montreal around 9:30pm, we walked Ave's St. Laurent and St. Catherine, the two main party streets of Montreal (think glamour of Robson plus nightlife of Granville and Davie). Aside from being hopelessly distracted by the silhoette of a dancing naked women at the intersection of the two main streets (Montreal surely has the greatest concentration of sex shops and strip joints in the world-- ironic for such a catholic province), we didn't get too lost. After cruising the streets, riding the subway, and grabbing a cheap Italian dinner, we went into club 'Coco Bonzo' which Adham raved about from his time in Costa Rica. At $8 cover, and with cheap drinks, we had a good time-- although the music devolved from latin rap to rap and hiphop (so we left after a couple hours). Although we could've gone to an 'after-hours' nightclub (party until the sun rises), at $25 cover for 'Circus', we declined and strolled the streets until 4am (amazingly lots of places are still open at that time). Montreal, it seems, is the town that never sleeps.
Day 10 (May 6): 0km down (5500km overall)
After sleeping in until 2pm, I got up, then we drove the McGill campus (where we'd parked the car while we slept), then went to look for a hostel for Adham to stay in over the next week (he's hanging around until next Friday). Me, I've been reflecting, reading, and writing this update. It's nice to have a chance to reflect on the 'Odyssey' to this point-- although, only 10 days in, I'll be continuing to discover the enigma of 'Canada' for several months longer. After a hectic and adventure filled 10 days, I'll be settling in at Trois Rivieres for the next 5 weeks (starting Monday) in the french bursary program at the university there.
But just because I'm not moving around, doesn't mean that things won't be interesting...
-- above is 'centre-ville', a quaint one-way which houses the city's fine selection of pubs and clubs. The other photo is a view of the St
. Lawrence River along the waterfront of 'centre-ville'.
These two photos are of 'Vieux Quebec'-- above is 'lower' old Quebec (basse-ville), below is 'upper' old Quebec (haute-ville).
Above is the 'Notre Dame des Victoires' in 'basse-ville' (where we went to Sunday service... and I almost ate the cracker)
the right one was taken after we stood in the bottom of the waterfall (we were soaked... which precipitated 'The most grave crime of the trip...'). People are, from left-to-right, Terry, Nicole, Nadine, Theresa, and me.
Chateau Frontenac at day and at night.
Que c'est beau!
Another couple random photo stops in Ontario, en route to Wawa (where we took in the 7th series game that the Flames lost). The random shoe was on the side of the road, while most of the trees (at left) had burned in a forest fire.
Ah Sudbury. Note the smokestacks at left, with the world's biggest nickel (Sudbury has Canada's largest nickel industry). And, note the distraught shopping cart in an industrial wastefield near downtown Sudbury.
