Aside: Ontario

The first time I left the United States was in 1969 for a rock festival, fashioned after 1968's Woodstock. The festival was in Ontario's Algonquin Provincial Park, and I fell in love with Canada. The festival was pretty much a bust, but I had the best time camping and listening to the music with my friend Ron and his girlfriend and everyone else who attended.

In 1976 I took a job teaching Math and Computer Science at the St. Johnsbury Academy. There I usually hung out with Trottier and Burley. We looked for music we enjoyed, which meant more rock-'n'-roll than country. More often than not it led us across the border into Quebec. The rumor at the time was that the fine for staying open past closing time was $30, less than the cost of the extra set by the band. The hard part was walking into Customs afterwards, and waking up the official to request entry back to the US. We spent a fair amount of time across the border.

Earlier than both, while I didn't actually get to Canada, happened in 4th grade, when my Grandmother lived with us for her last year and babysat me after I rode home from school. I started to tell a joke I heard at school, "What did the Newfie...", and Grandmother proceeded with a Diatribe. It seems that she and her husband my Grandfather (who died long before I was born) were born and raised in Newfoundland, and that is where We Are From. Not Ireland, Newfoundland. And so on. Now, I actually wish I paid more attention to the details, and asked questions. As it is, I've never told a Newfie joke since.

(Last year on our Canadian Maritimes trip, Sharon became so enamored that we're heading back next year! More Quebec, more Newfoundland.)

We just spent 5 days in Ontario, and it was wonderful. We entered at Grand Portage MN and got a campsite in Rainbow Falls PP. Then we walked up and got two nights at Pancake Bay PP, and then another two at Killarney PP. Each provincial park was awesome. Nice relatively private sites, clean bathrooms with flush toilets and showers and laundry, and spectacular locations, they were all five star. And they each dealt with volume surprisingly effectively. They're huge but you don't really notice unless you bike around.

Killarney is supposed to be a paddling mecca, and I can understand that. We were likely snubbed for being daytrippers, but I'm not ready to do a multi-night kayak trip anymore. Regardless, paddling Georgian Bay is cool. The rock is cool, the plants etching a life in the cracks are cool, the birds living in these little havens are cool. And the water is clear and clean and blue and ever changing. And cool.

Ontario is pretty awesome, it has excellent provincial parks, and even the construction areas are efficient. The people are so nice and helpful, I'm embarrassed by where I'm from. But the bottom line is, I don't want to need snow tires anymore. Even though I'd love to see how Ernie would behave with a full set of Blizaks (the best snow tires I've ever driven).