Once upon a time in the West (of Ottawa, but still in Ontario, (part one,

Okay, so it feels like forever since we’ve been anywhere [Vancouver in February 2020; the UK in 2018], especially the whole group of us, beyond heading to father-in-law’s in Picton, or mother-in-law’s cottage in Sainte-Adèle. We did big ridiculous car trips at the end of each of Christine’s maternity leaves [see our trip with wee Rose here; our trip with wee Aoife and toddler Rose here, none of which our young ladies would recall], so here we are on a years-long-awaited week-plus drive west to Burlington, Oakville, Woodstock etcetera, all centred around a conference that Christine is presenting at in London, Ontario. Might we even survive the journey?

Saturday, July 22, 2023: On Saturday, we woke early(ish) and headed west for two nights of a hotel in Oakville, thinking that a good half-way point would be to stop at the Big Apple along the 401, just by Colborne, to lunch and let the kids run around. A petting zoo! A wee train! Mini-putt golf! I mean, if that doesn’t scream “vacation,” then what does? And given the length of our drive, we presumed it far more interesting for the young ladies than simply grabbing a quick bite and one of the EnRoute locations (which are fine, but the children required a bit more).

We landed at the Big Apple, which has become a carnival in comparison to what it was when I first landed there back in 1993 with parents and toddler Kate. Apparently there’s been a new owner a decade or back ago, which really ramped up everything, from their winemaking to beermaking to rooms upon rooms of gift shop. There’s still the mini-putt golf and the petting zoo (moved to accommodate an extended parking lot, now twice the size) and the train for the kids, which is entertaining enough, but the whole thing of it seems to be a massive gift shop with entertainments to draw you in. Either way, I’m still in. A three-storey random apple-shaped building on the side of the highway that pulls in busloads of tourists? Genius.

Aoife and I did wander towards the apple itself (when Rose and Christine still in the gift shop), but we were caught in a downpour, which prompted us underneath the patio deck with twenty other people for cover. It rained very hard! But she and I crouched down and still managed a selfie with the apple behind us. And then we found a quarter!

Once we left the apple, we drove around Toronto and into Burlington, where we visited with Christine’s cousin Kim (technically her mother’s cousin) for a wee bit. The children were handed many treats and colouring equipments, which they thoroughly enjoyed. And driving through Streetsville en route to our hotel in Oakville (where I said hello in my head to Anne Stone’s parents—Anne and I stayed with them briefly in spring 1999 during a two-day break in our nearly two months of touring our books together) Christine drove us by the two houses she lived in while wee—the house she was brought home from the hospital to as a baby (which she didn’t recall) and the house she grew up in, and lived in until she left home for university (the young ladies were sort of interested and then completely not interested).

And then to the hotel, where we dinnered and crashed for a bit. I met Andy Weaver for a drink in the box-store monstrosity across the street. Apparently the staff were baffled when I asked if I could walk there (due to the creek/forest between hotel and the mall). A ten minute walk, but apparently no one walks around here? Cars were even slowing down to look at me strangely, walking on these otherwise empty sidewalks. And I’m certain that there have been murders inside those bushes. I suspect there are people probably living in there as well.

We also drove twice (while looking at Christine houses) by a building in Mississauga that was the colour of the sky. I posted it in socials as “THERE IS A BUILDING IN MISSISSSAUGA THE SAME COLOUR AS THE SKY,” and enough people commented on how that should either be a title or opening line that I made some quick notes while awaiting Andy at the ridiculous chain-restaurant patio. Maybe? [Watch my substack over the next few weeks]

Sunday, July 23, 2023: Morning plans shifted a bit, so we decided to make our way to Canada’s Wonderland, deliberately not telling the young ladies where we were going until we could see the park from the highway, which prompted them both to start screaming. Happily, of course. Given Christine grew up local to here, she went here lots as a kid with her family, and even more as a teen with her friends, but I’d only been once around sixteen or seventeen years of age along with my scout troupe. Our day the was one of heavy rain, and watching the water flow like rivers through the cobblestone streets, it having nowhere else to go. We went on the roller coaster repeatedly in an empty park (when they’d open it again, due to rain). I think my pal Ralph Williamson and others went on the white water rafting. I mean, we were already soaked, so why not?

There was much running around. Each child had big emotions at either end of our visit for their insistence upon attempting to win something banging up against their inability to actually win anything. why do they insist on these things? And why do they get so upset at an outcome that is entirely built in? One child at the beginning, and the other at the end. There was much sobbing. But still, there was much excitement and hot hot hot hot but at least a bit of a breeze for the bulk of our visit. We did about five hours, as the kids ran around on rides (some repeatedly), begged us to buy them things, we spent much of their college/university money on food and even picked up some t-shirts (although in hindsight, I regret not attempting postcards, but we were just too overwhelmed). It was curious being aware that this was such a familiar space to Christine: as I grew up on the farm, this isn’t anything I had any experience with. We did farm things. We stayed home. And when we did travel (mainly in the 1970s, before my mother’s illness took over), it was more driving trips to historic sites and towns and such. I recall the covered bridge in the east coast, and that creepy wax museum on Prince Edward Island, for example, when I might have been seven. I doubt my father would have had the patience for a big park like this when I was young.

And then the last hour of our time there completely rained out. They’d closed one of the kid roller coasters for thunder, re-opened and Christine and Rose got on (while Aoife and I had lunch), but by the time we’d switched, it was closed again. Aoife and I waited twenty minutes at the gate (at least we were under cover, unlike the other two), but it was a no-go. We got completely soaked attempting the way out, although I found a beer hutch, which was useful. When I purchased my SEVENTEEN DOLLAR BEER, I was told I had to wear this wrist-band that proved to any staff or security that I was of legal drinking age, and therefore had the ability to wander the park with a drink. Um, what? ARE YOU SAYING THAT WITHOUT THIS WRIST-BAND YOUR STAFF WOULD OTHERWISE THINK ME UNDERAGE?

Excuse me, sir, but I am only fifteen.

We did manage to get through and out of the park in the ongoing downpour, and there was that second bout of crying, but we were mostly fine. We even found the car again pretty quickly, but had to rush back to the hotel to completely change, which made us about an hour late to visiting Christine’s childhood friend Kim (a different Kim than yesterday), but that was fine. Kim’s daughter recently became a teen, so the young ladies were offered mounds of her daughter’s leavings, from stuffed animals to ridiculous toys to comforters to books. They couldn’t imagine their incredible luck! And when I say “they,” I mean the children (getting toys etc) and Kim (who got to clear out a bunch of her house). We had to get bags from the car. God sakes.

I kept the wrist-band on to show it to Kim, also. I only took it off once we were back at the hotel, as Aoife had a final pre-bedtime dip in the hotel pool. Andy had given me a copy of the most recent issue of Ploughshares, which I tried to flip through, but wasn’t completely able to, yet.

"name this band"

Monday, July 24, 2023: Woke, eventually. Left Oakville (an hour late, naturally) for the wilds of Thorold, to visit Christine’s great uncle Charlie and great aunt Brenda (Charlie is mother-in-law’s uncle, although they’re roughly the same age). In the hotel parking lot, a full coffee behind someone’s car, meaning there was someone else miles away from the parking lot realizing they hadn’t brought it along.

We hadn’t seen Charlie and Brenda in some time, and not since Charlie’s stroke, so it was good to spend some time with them and see where they’re at. It was their daughter’s wedding we were at back in 2019 down this way when Christine landed in hospital with meningitis, at the onset of September (she was in hospital in Niagara a week before transferred into Ottawa for a few days; I went back to Picton to collect children and car from father-in-law so Rose could begin grade one that following morning). Charlie ended up moving into different directions from his youthful adventurings, but he was once one of the original artists (along with John Moffat, Dennis Tourbin and John Boyle) of the Niagara Artists Centre in St. Catharines, and was involved with all of that activity in the late 60s and into the 70s, which is pretty cool to realize. A few years back he even sent me a bunch of photos he took of Tourbin during a particular tour around Ontario. I spent a great deal of time with Tourbin and Moffat in the 1990s (and John Boyle, when he came through town to visit Tourbin), so interesting to realize that connection.

From there we landed with Brenda at her late mother’s house right by Niagara-on-the-Lake, to see if anything we might have wished from the house, which they’ve yet to empty and sell. A large house on a lovely lot, a former fruit farm, right by a winery. Oh my.

And then from there we drove to Great Wolf Lodge, a site I wasn’t aware of until we landed. This place is ridiculous. With its log-building structure, massiveness and expense, this is clearly Montebello-for-kids. I fear what may happen next.