Winter Blues

As you'll know, Towed Haul is safely swaddled up for the winter at the dealership so our drive is empty and all I have is the Airstream Forums to trawl through; life sans Airstream is a forlorn place in winter.


That said, I did get my self-righteous indignation glands going a week or so ago when I received an e-mail from one of the Airstream Forum members. He'd decided to tell me off, privately, about the use of such a weak and feeble tow vehicle; I was an accident waiting to happen and I really ought to read the Forums to see what a proper tow vehicle was. Hmmm, red rags and bulls comes to mind, doesn't it?


I wouldn't have have been quite so ticked off had the guy not been a long time member of the Forum and should have, by rights, been party to the numerous discussions about using anything other than a Monster Truck to pull an Airstream. Talk about doing some reading; he clearly hadn't read, or chose to ignore, the fulminations of many a person on how the choice of tow vehicle was no longer restricted to something that could pull the Queen Mary.


So I wrote back, trying to to keep things balanced but (of course) pointing out that far from being an ignoramus, I had done the research and had bought myself a really rather good tow vehicle, despite his assertions to the contrary. How did I know? Well, unlike most of my fellow Airstreamers, I had employed a professional to set up our combination and I like to think that as a result, my tow vehicle was in fact far superior to most other peoples!


Needless to say he didn't reply. I'd like to think that he was bowled over by the force of my argument but I suspect, like so many of the naysayers on the Forum, that he has written me off as a hopeless eccentric. Ho hum. Only four months to go....

Well, That's It For This Year

Living in the frozen north (it's much further south than England, but it sounds good), we have to put Towed Haul into storage for the winter. I fleetingly though about rebuilding the garage to get the beast put away on site, as it were, but that idea was a teeny bit impractical. I also thought about driving to Florida, migrating like the birds, but Mrs T might miss my scintillating company if I were to be absent for six months.  Better, then, that we wing the Airstream up to CanAm RV in London, have them give it an anti-freeze transfusion and store it on their lot for the duration.

Cleaned up and ready to go

I spent a couple of days cleaning her up (Towed Haul that is, not Mrs T) and removing all our goods and chattels. I called CanAm to make an appointment and was once again wrong footed with their very casual attitude. "Bring it in any time" says they. "Wednesday?" says I. "Anytime" says they. Hmmmmmm.


I did ask about dumping the poo tanks, certain that CanAm would have the facility to do that. "Well, we can" said the Service Manager "but our guy doesn't like doing it, and we charge $25". I was just about to suck my teeth and make disapproving noises when he pipes up "Why don't you take it to the local Truck Stop here? They have a dump station and it's only $10". Curious advice from a business, I thought, but why not? But I digress.


So, with a clean and shiny (if a little empty) trailer, I attempted to hitch the car to Towed Haul all on my own, Mrs T being somewhat indisposed at the time. I'm pleased to be able to report that hitching was achieved on only my fourth attempt; it's taken longer than that with help before now! OK so I had the assistance of the back up camera on the car but I still felt pretty pleased about it. 


We had a long last look at our baby, checked all was stowed well and ceremoniously locked her up, ready for my run up to London the following day. It was quite emotional! Well, not for me, obviously, I'm a rufty tufty bloke so I was unmoved, but Mrs T was strangely silent and shiny eyed.


So there I was, on Wednesday morning, pulling Towed Haul up Highway 401 and finding the going very easy (it would be, the trailer being empty. Doh!). I made for the Truck Stop first and found that they had not one but four RV dump stations, built into the fuel and water islands specifically for RVs. How spiffing! Despite the big warning signs to the contrary, the lady on the till wouldn't take my money up front so I dumped the tanks and then headed back into the gas station shop to pay. Being a good and hygienic little camper, despite wearing disposable rubber gloves for the dumping operation, I went to the (really very grubby) loo and washed my hands before heading out, buying a coffee and paying the nice lady. I made a mental note that Flying J truck stops were very RV friendly places and determined to find out where there were more. It's very educational this camping lark.

Heading over CanAm was fun as I sat the car and trailer in the centre lane of the highway, on the speed limit, and let people fly by me on either side, safe in the knowledge that a couple of Ks further on not only did the road go from four to two lanes but one of the two was closed. See how I think ahead? I hope you're all impressed!

At CanAm I just pulled up in front of the store, went in and met up with Marshall, the Service Writer. He logged all the details on the computer and then came out to verify the small warranty items we needed doing, dispensing some excellent advice in the process. I asked him about the alarming way the wheels appear to tilt when backing the Airstream up at slow speed and he was able to soothe my worries away. Apparently it's not the wheels but the tires that appear to tilt, the section underneath the wheel being pushed outwards whilst the section at the top goes inwards, giving a real tilted effect. It can also happen at high speed, too, and he suggested I look at pictures of F1 cars cornering at speed to see the same thing happening; do you know, he's not wrong? Brilliant stuff! Anyway, fifteen minutes later I was unhitching and leaving the keys with Marshall before scuttling in to pay; $1 per day for storage isn't a bad deal in my opinion.


Then I had to drive away and leave poor old Towed Haul on the forecourt. Oh woe is me! It's really stupid because we leave her on the driveway or at the campground often enough so why this should be any different I don't know. It's only a pile of aluminium and wood after all but it was a wrench for me and it's still going to be a long six months before we can go to collect her. What a sad sack I am.


So, that's it for the season for Towed Haul. We've driven her 9,600 kilometers, stayed 45 nights in her during the season. We've stayed at 5 Provincial Parks, 1 Conservation Area, 5 US State Parks and 5 commercial campgrounds. When towing we've averaged about 18.8 litres per 100 kilometres, which is around 12.5 miles to the US gallon or 15 miles to the Imperial gallon; roughly twice the consumption for the Toadmobile when we're not towing. That stacks up quite favourably when compared to the usual tow vehicle of choice for other Airstreamers, the Pick Up Truck. They get similar consumption figures when towing but when not towing they don't often better 18-19 miles per US Gallon; that gladdens my heart, I can tell you.

We've learned the tricky art of hitching and of backing up. We know that 60 mph is a sensible speed when towing and that it usually rains when we deploy the awning. I dented the beast on our first trip out (total inexperience on my part) and crushed the car to trailer power connector when trying to back up in the wee small hours of the night. On the positive side, we can set up and break camp smoothly now and hardly ever try to drive off with the chocks between the wheels. We've had the fuses blow on the electric jack and the water heater but we're skilled at knowing when the grey water tank is about the overflow and what we can do to prevent it. We haven't cracked picking dry weekends for camping but we're very adept at dealing with heavy rain and waterlogged camp sites.


Overall, though, we've had more fun than we dared think we would have. We still have lots to learn but heck, we have a great time find out what we're doing wrong. Roll on April.

Our Last Trip This Season (Sniff, Sniff)

Friday

Well here we are down at not so sunny Rondeau Park, enjoying our last outing of the 2011 camping season. The rain is clattering down on the roof and the wind is howling in the trees around us, so we're ending just as we started back in April. Consistency is our watchword.

The forecast for this weekend predicted near monsoon conditions and for once, both Accuweather and the Weather Network were right, which is surely a feat to be celebrated. We have been fated this season to pick camping weekends that have been wet and windy, but are we downhearted? Never! Should we have had that periscope fitted to the Airstream? Maybe...

Preparations for the weekend went as usual; step outside to do anything and down comes the rain. Come back inside to dry off and out comes the sun; it's a cycle that we're well used to. But we were hitched and ready to leave even before the Tadpoles had made it back from school so a quick trip out to Mr Horton's fine coffee and buns dispensary was called for, something which always bolsters a pair of hungry and keen campers like us. Having waved off the Tadpoles for a weekend with their other toads, we hit the road in the wind and rain, waving briefly to Mr Tiffin who was gamely mowing his grass in the downpour; what a man!

It's only about 35 Kms to Rondeau so it was a gentle run down, the gas mileage looking quite reasonable thanks to the immense tail wind. By the time we arrived the rain had stopped and we wondered over to the dump station to take on water, chatting with other campers whilst there and generally winding down, as you should on these trips. Our site was a pull through and looked to be acceptable, apart from the big fruit tree overhanging the parking area. We'd not have given it a thought except that the fruit was tennis ball sized, weighed a fair bit and was scattered all over the place; I pictured our pride and joy getting well dented if we parked under the tree in this wind. However, some careful placement of trailer and car and we had ourselves sorted fairly quickly.

Towed Haul and neighbours

Much to our surprise there are plenty of people here this weekend, enjoying the rain and wind, obviously. As we drove in there was a big party of people sitting around outside their trailer and all turned to stare at us as we moved past. I wanted to wind the window down and shout out “yes, it's magic!” but thought better of it. They may have just been admiring our trailer rather than thinking “you can't tow that with that”. I've no doubt that we'll see them later this weekend. I have to say that no one has yet told us that we can't tow the Airstream with the Toadmobile but they do make enquiries as to how heavy the trailer is and raise their eyebrows when I tell them them; “With a Sienna? Phew!”, they say.

So, set up and bursting for a baked potato, we retired to the cozy interior of Towed Haul and settled in for a quiet night. Friday night is film and flatulence night with the toads and we cracked open the Guinness, the wine, the chocolate raisins and the chocolate almonds to create our own special ambiance. Our film for the evening was Cassandra's Dream, written and directed by Woody Allen and starring Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell. Well, all I can say is that Mr Allen must have been having a bad day when he made that film and that the two male leads can't have read the script before agreeing to take part; it was dire. We had an Irishman and a Scotsman trying to do London accents and failing badly, Tom Wilkinson stumbling over just about every line and a story that went nowhere with no suspense other than the audience spending the entire movie wondering if there was going to be some great twist in the tail that would redeem it; there wasn't.

When we peered out of the door at about midnight, the clouds had moved on and the moon was bright. On another day we might have wandered out for a walk but, both being tired little toads, we decided to turn in, even though it was really quite early for us. My plan for Saturday morning was to get out and have a walk before Mrs T was up and about, because Guinness and chocolate raisins really need to be walked off. Would the weather allow me? The odds were not good...

Saturday

What was I saying about odds? The rain was thundering down and the wind was enough to blow the stripes from a Zebra as I squinted through the doorway because the windows were all steamed up. My normal morning routine of heading out to the “Comfort Station” for a shower was going to have to go on hold.

Lurking in the trees

I don't know that it had been that cold in the night; the heating had come on once or twice, but inside Towed Haul it was a bit steamy. The night's peace was punctuated by the occasional squeak of the smoke alarm as its battery faded, so I was feeling a bit grumpy already, but the sight of the predicted monsoon didn't cheer me up any. I did venture out in the end, armed with my $2 golfing umbrella and made it to the showers without getting my towel too wet, so that was a plus. Then I perked up even more to be presented with quite a clean shower that had oodles of very hot water, which was just what I needed. Say what you like about Provincial Parks but they all have good washing facilities, Rondeau more so than most, which is why we keep coming back.

Freshly spruced up I sat in the trailer and wrote a bit, made some tea and coffee and eventually, at almost midday decided to head out for a walk. Mrs T opted not to join me so I set out in my best wet weather clothing and made for the beach. Curiously, the rain stopped about then and by the time I'd hit the sand it was still very windy but it was dry and beginning to look like a better day. Strange, I thought, me outside on a camping weekend and it's not raining; odd, very odd.

The never ending beach

I thought I might walk for half an hour or so along the beach then turn around and come back but, in a very rash moment, I decided I'd walk all the way down to the Visitor Centre along the lake's edge then head back to Towed Haul through the woods. The beach was not too heavy going and the noise of the waves was being cancelled out by the noise of the wind so the walk was pleasant enough, but the Visitor Centre took about 45 minutes to loom into view. When I looked back down the beach, it looked like I'd only walked a few hundred metres when in fact I'd done nearer 5 Kms, such is the foreshortening effect when looking down a flat sandy beach! The walk back along Harrison Trail through the woods was less windy, but it was really difficult to judge how far I'd walked as it really did all look the same. The only wildlife I saw other than birds was snake, and that had been squashed flat. Mind you, the walk was easy and beneath the fallen leaves was a good firm track, so progress was swift and I emerged out of the woods just a few hundred metres from the camp site and about five minutes shaved off the time I'd taken on the outward leg. I used to walk a fair bit but I'm so out of condition these days that even that 90 minutes or so had me feeling well knackered. Still, I'd arrived back for lunch, so that was OK.

A lunatic windsurfer

The weather stayed dry so Mrs T and I went to have a look at the Blue-Green algae in the lake, toured the campground then headed over to the bay on the other side of the peninsular. It was there that we realised just how windy it really was as that side of the park was getting the full force of the south westerly. The bay is only a few feet deep but it was being whipped up by some ferocious gusts, as were a couple of lunatic windsurfers who where skidding along the low waves at breakneck speeds. We stood on the dock getting buffeted about but gave up our forced intake of fresh air after a few minutes as it was getting a little difficult just standing up. Mind you, the views were great across the bay and we certainly appreciated the lack of rain.

On a whim, we decided to get in the car and go to Ridgetown to search out a bakery, or more specifically the buns and doughnuts produced by said bakery. I suppose that I should mention that the rather excellent brochure that the Rondeau Park people produce had pointed us at a baker, but I wouldn't want them getting too big headed. Anyway, the baker was duly located and, unlike most of the shops in Ridgetown, it was still open. We had a good attempt at clearing the the remaining cakes and buns from the bakery shelves and then, after  perusing Main Street for a while, went to find one of Mr Horton's coffee establishments before scuttling back to the campground. We had a mad idea that we might sit outside and make a start on the cakes but the inside of Towed Haul was just too warm and inviting. Essentially, we are a pair of wimps!

When the darkness fell we had another whim moment (we have a lot of those) and headed out again, to Ridgetown again, this time to pick up a battery for the now constantly squeaking smoke alarm and (I'm almost ashamed to say this) to pick up some indigestion tablets to counter the effects of the buns we'd scoffed. Still, it was a pleasant ride out and put us in the right mood for our supper of pizza and, er, pizza. We may have had a salad with it but I'd have rather have had a plate of chips or a baked potato. Unfortunately over here it's against the law to have any kind of potato dish with pizza so we settled on just pizza. Exciting, aren't we?

The campground was full of groups this weekend, four or five trailers grouped together and the occupants gathered under large makeshift shelters all having a jolly time in the rain. It appeared that it was an early Hallowe'en for some groups with kids as carved pumpkins were much in evidence. It certainly made the place quite jolly in the evening with camp fires and music all around. Us being the miserable sorts that we are just hastened inside and settled to supper and a film (a better one than last night) before turning in at a much more respectable time of 1.30am.

We weren't holding out much hope for fine weather for Sunday, it being packing up day the fates weren't going to help us, that much was certain. Still, it was lovely and toasty in Towed Haul so all was well with the world.

Sunday

We were right about the weather, as I woke to dark skies, wind and rain. All set up in our lovely warm trailer, I was surprised to see others sat outside their trailers under their shelters, watching the rain fall along with the leaves and strange the tennis ball sized fruit. Thwump! There goes another one. Still, each to their own I suppose.

Apart from the regular ablution trip to the Comfort Station, this morning we did nothing at all other than get lunch. Having sorted lunch, and eaten it of course, it was time to pack up so we didn’t have time for long walks on the (rain sodden) beach, which was a pity (ho ho).

Packing up was a bit of a melancholy affair, this being our last packing up of the season. At least we were ending as we’d started, at a cold, grey and wet Rondeau Park, so at least there was a certain symmetry to it all.

Backing the car up to the trailer was a triumph today, especially as I had an audience. It was straight back, some minor adjustment and click, straight on the ball (as it were). Our trailer/car combination always attracts attention so I was really pleased that despite being dangerous lunatics for towing with a minivan, we certainly looked like we knew what we were doing; for a change!

Finishing the hitching went well and we were, for a change, ahead of schedule as we splashed our way out of the site, anti-sway bars groaning and popping and attracting all sorts of attention from our fellow campers. At least they were able to see a couple of one-season toads driving confidently out with their lovely, shiny Airstream in tow; what a treat that must have been for them.

Then we were out of the park gates and off home for the last time this season, wind howling through the extension mirrors but Towed Haul rock solid behind us. Now where’s that calendar so that we can start crossing off the days until next spring?

Mr Toad reflects on a wet and windy first season

Falling in to Autumn - Sunday

Sunday mornings are bittersweet affairs when weekend camping. You have nothing to rush about for but you know you’re going to have to leave; the ecstasy and the pain. Talking of pain, it was taters outside, only 5C when I staggered out of bed and the sun had been up an hour by then, that’s not right for October 2^nd. Still, it made my short walk to the comfort station quite bracing and make me keep up a reasonable pace as I took a stroll around the site after showering.

Such a neat and tidy site!

Lunch was early so that we could be making tracks as checkout was 2pm, but we just couldn’t really raise the tempo to get an earlier start, after all why should we?

Breaking camp and hitching up is getting to be quite an easy task these days, especially when it’s just us two. We’re tidy campers so there wasn’t a great deal to pack up outside and we were hitched up and ready to go just as the rain started. We were accosted by a fellow camper who made the usual enquiries about how we could tow such a heavy trailer with our Minivan but I’m also getting used to that so I told him about our modifications and showed him the hitch and he seemed suitably impressed. To be fair, no one has said “you can’t tow that with that” but I still enjoy seeing people looking impressed. Of course, flushed with my own comprehensive towing knowledge, I set off for the dumping station having forgotten to fit the extension mirrors to the car. Doh!

Dumping was a thrill this time because I think the campground’s sewer holding tank was quite full. When I pulled on the valve to empty the poo tank, the horrible brown soup came back up the access pipe in the ground a bit and I had to be sharp to get my feet out of the way in time. However, these dumping stations are designed to cope with this sort of thing so the application of some water from the attendant flushing hose had the problem sorted. That’s the first time that’s happened, which isn’t bad for a whole season.

Back on the road and the rain and wind were as bad as ever as we headed west again. I missed the turn to get back to the Highway but we decided that we’d stay on the minor road all the way home today. Even though it’d take longer, we’d save gas and have a more interesting drive and so it turned out to be. We stayed on what is known as the Talbot Trail and enjoyed the unfamiliar towns on the way and smiled knowingly as the average fuel use figure crept slowly downward (given that it was recording litres per 100 kilometres where a lower number is better). As we progressed, even the rain cleared away.

Despite the weather, that was a pretty good weekend. We really don’t deserve the rain and the wind and the cold, it’s been a pretty wet season so I thought we’d be due a bit of a break from that. Still, we’ll probably have one more run out this season, before we have to put our baby into hibernation. Who do I have to see about getting some fine and dry weather arranged?  

Falling in to Autumn - Saturday

Saturday dawned cold and grey, but at least the rain had stopped. I made my ritual walk over  to the delightfully named Comfort Station for a shower and discovered a slightly tired and scruffy looking shower block but one that was quite clean and that dispensed copious amounts of very hot water, so I was happy. My route there took me past some valiant tent campers, a lot of whom were huddled beneath huge plastic sheets strung between trees, or cooking their breakfasts on open wood fires. It all looked very backwoods but I was so happy to be going back to my heated mansion on wheels. Now here's a thing about tent camping in North America; most tents you buy here have only the most basic of fly sheets, that is a secondary cover over the tent that acts as the primary rain defence. Some fly sheets cover only the dome of the tent, the few square feet at the top, others are more generous but none, including our tent, go all the way to the ground like they would in Europe. I can assume a couple of reasons here, the main one being that perhaps tent manufacturers think that tent campers only go out in the good weather. Now that's a little short sighted because even in the more southerly parts of this continent, it does rain in the summer. The other, more cynical reason is, I think, that it's cost cutting on the part of the manufacturers. Either way, though, most tents you see in campgrounds over here are covered with a makeshift flysheet consisting of a big plastic tarpaulin and lots of string, and the tents at Port Burwell certainly needed extra covering this weekend. Maybe I need to start importing European style tents? Another business opportunity in the making!

Up and about, we'd decided to go to the Green Frog Tearoom (appropriate for Toads, I think) at Pinecroft for an early lunch. On the way, we went through Port Burwell village and had a  look at the leaden skies over the churned up, muddy watered lake; dark grey over light brown. It was cold and windy and not at all the place to be on a wet Saturday morning, which is why we stayed in the the car to watch the Turkey Vultures and Canada Geese about their business on the beach. Port Burwell village seemed nice enough but it looked like it was the deep mid-winter rather than the first day of October with most businesses closed and no one on the streets. Much to the chagrin of a lot of the locals, there is a veritable forest of wind turbines along the north shore of Lake Erie and this area was no exception with the grey uprights stretching out along the headland. The wind was keeping the myriad blades busy and, although it's not the popular view, I think there's a certain majesty in these huge blades spinning around at what seems like a leisurely pace; of course I don't live in the shadow of these things but they look impressive.

The Green Frog Tearoom

Over at the Green Frog Tearoom we had arrived just at the right time. Despite this place being fairly well hidden (we missed the signs twice), it was buzzing with arrivals and cars were jostling for position in the little parking lot. This place is a favourite haunt of “Ladies Who Lunch” and I did notice a distinct lack of my male brethren at the tables. The tearoom itself was in a little wooden building beside a small lake, in a wood; it reminded me a bit of a very small Centerparcs. The decoration inside was twee but the menu wasn't and we enjoyed the home cooked fare very much, even though I did have to pick out the green pepper from my lasagne! We also enjoyed the short walk through the woods that we took afterwards and took great delight in looking at the huge variety of fungi that was growing around and about; see what we get up to at the weekends? It's real rock and roll.

After feeding we headed to Aylmer, a nice little farming town just up the road. I say little, it had two Tim Horton's outlets, a big No Frills and a liquor store, so it wasn't that small. It also had a lovely baker's shop, which we attempted to clear of doughnuts, but it had nowhere to get our propane cylinder refilled, not that was open on a Saturday, anyway. Mrs T had a session calling around various likely places, none of whom seemed able to understand her pronunciation of the word “propane”, but we eventually had to settle on driving into the much larger town of St Thomas, about 15 Kms away. We didn't reckon on having to do a propane chase this weekend.

Up Close

Anyway, propane was eventually found at a place in St Thomas, one that we had been warned not to go to by another retailer who's own propane dispensing system had developed a fault and wasn't working. Goodness, the things people will say to keep your business! With the car full of compressed gas and doughnuts we headed back to Port Burwell, stopping along the way at the Wind Turbine Interpretation Centre (Closed For The Season) to get a close look at a wind turbine, which was as impressive close up as I had imagined. The wind was spinning the three 123 feet long blades quite quickly and there was definitely some noise associated with it but not, as the detractors would have you believe a deafening drone or a “whumping” sound as the blades moved. In fact the normal wind noise drowned out most of the turbine's noise, and the passing cars covered the rest. Still, I'm not sure I’d like to live in the shadow of one of these things.

Canada Geese. Well they would be, wouldn't they?

Back at base the sun had emerged and we sat outside for a while, eating doughnuts as enjoying our leafy glade. The temperature was running at about 10 or 11 degrees Celsius so was a bit too cold to stay inert for any period, so into the Toadmobile we hopped and headed the kilometre or so to the lake front part of the Provincial Park and had half an hour wandering on the beach. With the sun out and the wind not too obvious down there, it was really very nice; this will be a good place to be in high summer I think. There were some nice information boards, too, with data on the birds of prey migration route (which we were now under; that was the reason for the morning's Turkey Vulture sightings) and the exploitation of natural gas reserves under the lake. It was all most informative and made for a really enjoyable afternoon. As I said, ours is a very rock and roll lifestyle.

Armed with plenty of propane, back in Towed Haul we fired up the furnace and had a nice night in. Scrabble, DVDs and beef stew are excellent constituents of a weekend's camping in October, especially as when the weather isn't being very kind. I have to admit to using a sleeping bag as an extra duvet when we hit the hay, which is a bit wimpy I know but with the mercury  at 5C and falling, I though it wise. So we retired, our only full camping day complete, but certainly feeling pretty good for the day's activities. We'd seen no rain, so that was an unexpected bonus, although I felt sure we'd pay for that respite when breaking camp on Sunday.

Falling into Autumn - Friday

It's the end of September and we're still set on camping. Of course, for us northerners this is the end of the season; the temperature is dropping, as are the leaves, and many of our fellow north country trailer types have already put their babies into hibernation for the winter. We, though, are determined to get some more outdoor living done before our winter closes in. Oh, and the City council say that we can't have Towed Haul parked on the drive over the winter!

Our destination this weekend is Port Burwell Provincial Park, on the north coast of Lake Erie about 40 minutes south of London. It's around a two hour run for us, which is really local considering some of our jaunts this year.

Port Burwell. Not my picture 'cos it was almost dark when we arrived.

The weather forecast was looking a bit mediocre, to say the least. Mind you, the forecast and what actually transpires are two different things, especially when this last week's forecasting has been so woeful; I was clinging to hope. For Friday we were promised rain, a strong northerly wind and plunging temperatures and guess what? Rain, wind and plunging temperatures. Why did the forecasters have to get it right today? Anyway, loading and hitching up was done in the rain and the gathering wind and as we set out through Chatham, the flags straining on their poles outside the car dealerships were an ominous sign. By the time we hit the highway I was glad that I'd tightened up the anti-sway bars on the hitch, as our northerly wind was screaming across the road and the whole rig was being pulled sideways. Now that sounds dramatic but the towing properties of Airstream trailers mean that apart from a slight squint on the steering, Towed Haul and the Toadmobile stayed pretty solid and were as nothing compared to the tractor/trailer units that were being buffeted all over the place, they being taller, longer and squarer than us. The rain didn't help, either, making the extension mirrors all but unusable and the visibility very poor with the spray from the big trucks. Were we downhearted, though? Of course not, with the prospect of a tadpole-free weekend ahead of us, we were all happiness and laughter!

So we barrelled along the highway amidst the spray and the veering trucks, shouting over the  wind noise coming through the extension mirrors and looking forward to a change of scene. I took great delight in overriding the Satnav as he tried to send us via Port Stanley, something I was confident of doing having done my navigation homework, and came off the highway up near London, getting away from the spray and, for some of the remainder of the trip, converting the cross wind to a tail wind. The countryside all along the lake's shore is fairly flat but delightfully bucolic, with neat farms and small towns along the arrow straight roads. We made Port Burwell in reasonable time and, having registered at the campground gatehouse, made our way through the wooded camp site to find our pitch, number 151. There were a few other people about, in tents and trailers, but our little corner seemed fairly quite and we were unmolested as we backed Towed Haul straight onto the site in one, fluid movement. I mention that because we're in grave danger of looking a bit like seasoned campers with our trailer parking these days; sure the site was good, but straight in with no jiggling about is something to be proud of!

The campground was indeed very pleasant, with wide spaced sites along narrow but good quality loop roads. Autumn had arrived here, though, with a complete covering of leaves on the ground and a constant fall going on whilst we worked to set up. The wind was blowing the trees high up but down on the ground it wasn't too bad, apart from the occasional crack and crash of a large bough coming to earth, something I mentally crossed my fingers about as I looked at Towed Haul's ever so slightly dented aluminium skin.

The Toadmobile and Towed Haul at Port Burwell

Friday evenings at this time of year don't give you a lot of time for exploring before darkness descends, so we settled into Towed Haul, set up the little electric heater (the one with the big orange glow) and tucked into our traditional Friday night Toad meal of baked potatoes and baked beans. Sadly tonight we were lacking our usual English Heinz beans as the lady in the shop in town didn't know her HP from her Heinz, but at least they weren't the local variety, so all was well. We were a little wary of firing up the propane powered central heating system (known as a furnace, here) on board as we had one empty gas cylinder and didn't know the state of the second, so we stuck with the little electric heater for as long as we could. Despite its jolly orange glow, it wasn't really enough, though, as we started to feel the cold creeping in whilst we watched a DVD into the night and eventually succumbed to the furnace with a thought that we'd seek out a propane refill in the morning, just to be on the safe side.

We were quite snug as we turned in for the night, the rain drumming out an uneven beat on the roof and the temperature dropping like a stone outside. But hey, this is camping Toad-style, so like Scouts all over the world, we were prepared.

Family and Falls

This weekend saw the first school-term time trip after the summer break, so we did a long one, to Niagara Falls, just for the hell of it! Well, actually it wasn't for the hell of it all, but to make up part of a small family reunion, which is something I don't often get a chance to do.


My uncles Roger and Mike, and Aunt Cynthia, were visiting the Falls on the US side to celebrate Roger's birthday. Whilst all three had flown up from Tennessee, Mike and Cynthia were over from the UK so I felt it would be too good a gathering to miss out on so we'd arranged to meet to see the Canadian side of the falls; cue a trip in Towed Haul, Tadpoles and all, to that centre of good taste and culture, Niagara Falls. That's irony by the way.


We had a good run up from Chatham, stopping briefly at CanAm RV for trailer-type supplies (JW was on hand and said that the dent on Towed Haul was simply "patina" - love it!) then continued on via Brantford and Hamilton. This being the toads' camping weekend, we did get a bit of rain on the journey and the forecast wasn't good, but heck, we expect rain every trip these days. It was a clear run and we arrived in good spirits because our gas mileage was showing as 18.2 litres per 100 kms, which was a good 1.5 litres better than usual. I was bemused, but more of that later. We had arrived at the Niagara KOA ($74 a night!) just as the light went so we had to set up in the dark; it wasn't so bad, though, as we had a perfectly level site and the benefit of being able to drive right into it, despite it not being a pull-thru. The Tadpoles were not ever so pleased that we arrived with no time for them to swim in the indoor pool, but Mrs T's homemade chicken casserole sorted them out.


Saturday dawned, bright and sunny, but we all took quite a while to get going, even with the likelihood of visitors arriving. We'd promised ourselves a big brekkie at the Flying Saucer Restaurant and ended up missing the cheap deal and had to stump up a total of $63 to feed the starving toads. By the time we'd started back to the KOA, our visitors were at the gate and busily engaged in negotiation with the office staff about why they should pay $27 just to get in to see their nephew; it was only a campground after all. A bit of jiggery-pokery and a seven-seater Toadmobile and we'd circumvented the guards; $27 indeed.


After showing off Towed Haul, we made our way into Niagara Falls proper, dropped the rellies at a Subway and motored off to go and see the falls again. $20 to park is a tad steep but I consoled myself with the thought that it was way cheaper than Disneyland and the Canadian National Parks Service were the main beneficiaries, and that tweaked my public service glands a bit.


The Falls were lovely, as ever, and I fancy had a bit more water going over the crest than the last time we visited. Even with the death of a tourist a few weeks ago, dozy people were still clambering over the railings to get "good" photos; they won't be good photos from the bottom of the gorge, I can tell you! We had intended a wander over to Clifton Hill, that's Blackpool-On-The-Falls for those who don't know, but the weather, far from being horrid as forecast, was sunny and hot. We made it as far as the ice cream shop and went no further.


Given that it was a nice day, we then took the rellies down the Parkway to Niagara-On-The-Lake, a well to do town at the mouth of the Niagara River where it flows into Lake Ontario. It was quite windy down there (and very busy, too) but it was good to see the sailboats on the choppy water and to get a very clear view of Toronto on the other side of the lake. On the subject of being busy, it's interesting to note that the Parks Service, which owns most of the Canadian side of the gorge, had scaled back operations after Labour Day last week, meaning parking and shuttle buses were in limited supply. Now forgive me an observation here, but all around the region it was as busy as any Summer Saturday; Mr Parks Service, you are losing money here!


After a brief run back to the KAO, we set off to a little, new and untried (by us) Hungarian Restaurant in Chippewa called Sweet and Savoury. It was a nice little place that had an unusual menu (Hungarian dishes, strangely) and some interesting Gypsy Music playing. The waiter, the owner I think, was very pleasant and dealt with all our questions with patience. The delivery of the food to the table took a while, though, and wasn't always as ordered, but we got there in the end. The Restaurant had been booked for a party later in the evening and I think they had half an eye on the rest of the evening. Still, it was a good meal, even with the cold pasta, and was quite inexpensive. I'd have liked a sweet but they'd taken so long to serve the main meal, we were in danger of crashing the party, so we paid up and left; next time, maybe.


We then took our leave of the rellies. It was great to meet up again and I now have an appointment to visit Weston-super-Mud on my next visit to the UK. Of course I should have visited before, but better late than never, eh?


Repairing to Towed Haul, after another ice cream of course, we settled in to watch Joseph Cotten and Marilyn Munroe in Niagara; well, we had to, didn't we? The director plays fast and loose with which side of the river the action was supposed to be with the USA pretending to Canada and vice-versa all through the film; even the dialogue was confused on the issue sometimes. Anyway, we collapsed into bed having had a great day with great people in great weather. And the Tadpoles still didn't get to swim!


The KOA decided that we had to be out by 11am on the Sunday so it was up and out, really. We did have a chance to mooch around the site, which was OK. If anyone says to you that it would be a great idea to get a KOA cabin, though, say no. They are no more than wooden tents with electricity and bunk beds, not even a toilet as you have to use the camping facilities; buy a tent as it will be bigger, cheaper and more comfortable!


Our trip back was as easy, too, if a little busier on the road. I discovered the secret of a the excellent gas mileage on the way down when I realised that from Hamilton to London, it's all uphill (or down hill when going, London to Hamilton), so the Toadmobile was coasting down and stressing out on the way back. We still managed 19.4 litres per 100 kms, which is OK, so the average was 18.8; really rather good!


We're thinking we may do one more trip this year, before putting Towed Haul into hibernation. Whatever we do it'll be local and nowhere near Ontario's rip-off capital. Ribbit.

The Toads Are (Not) On The Road Again

Well, here we are back from our travels, for a few days at least.


We really are expert at the slow start in the mornings. The campground is coming to life around us and we sit serenely in our little aluminium cocoon and watch the world go by, fortified with only an egg sarnie and can of pop. This morning we eventually did get moving and, as the Tadpoles were not present, it was all done in a matter of minutes. I did get waylaid by a man who wanted to know if our Toadmobile could really pull a 7,000lb trailer but, in my new and understated way I just said "sure". Well, sort of. I did blather a little but, whilst I just love to asked about why we don't have a monster tow vehicle, I've decided to play it cool now and will utter little in future and just look all knowing. 


The KOA was OK but for the density of trailers, the rubbish WiFi and the fact the power went off a couple of times. We could have used the heated, indoor pool but chose not to (that dolphin is still upsetting me) and we didn't really feel like parting with $8 for firewood, a price that makes the Provincial Park's daylight robbery ($6) look positively cheap. The tap water on site definitely smelled odd, too, but as my teeth haven't gone green and started to drop out I'm guessing it was OK to clean my teeth with. We're at another KOA next weekend but I'm guessing that it won't be such a busy weekend so there's hope for a lovely view and a bit of usable WiFi.


On the way home, Mrs T had a brainwave and suggested we pull off the highway and visit our RV Dealers CanAm, on the other side of London. We did need some RV Boss for the poo tank so I thought it a good idea but wished we had thought of it some seconds earlier because bringing the Toadmobile and Towed Haul down from 100 km/h to about 40 in the space of a few yards so we could safely traverse the off ramp was, erm, challenging. Still, we managed it, and without too much smoke from the trailer brakes. What we didn't appreciate, though, was that CanAm is closed on Sunday; so that was why there were so few cars out front! Ho hum.


We made it home without further incident, or at least an incident I was aware of. For some strange reason, both Mrs T and I decided that today was the day that we would get the trailer lined up properly on the drive, so half a million attempts later we finally realised that to line up with the grass was not to line up with the garage; it's only taken us all summer to realise that the drive is out of whack as it isn't quite lined up square with the garages. Doh! Towed Haul is almost square with the garage now, but most definitely not with the edge of the drive. C'est la vie I suppose.


Next weekend we're set for the delights of Niagara Falls and a small family reunion with the Stevens clan, formerly of Torquay. We're fully equipped with Tadpoles, too, so that should be an eye opener!

The Toads Are On The Road Again - Day 4

Ah, the luxury of not having to do anything or be anywhere. Day 4 dawned, sunny and warm and all we needed to do was set the lawn chairs up and watch the world go by. We had promised ourselves a run into London but that could wait; first there was some lounging about to be enjoyed. 


We were now hemmed in by some big trailers on this KOA campground, making Towed Haul look miniature by comparison. Next to us is a six wheeled monster, known here as a Fifth Wheeler because they connect up to the back of a pickup truck just like an articulated lorry. If I could load photos through this lovely KOA WiFi I'd show you, but I can't so I won't. Anyway, it's a beast with its slide outs and whatnot. It isn't silver, though, and doesn't have the name Airstream on it so it's not a proper travel trailer.


Eventually we decided to mooch into London, look for some lunch and then ride our bikes through one of the many riverside parks there. Downtown London isn't the most affluent of places; it's a bit like Swindon, having relied on the railway for its prosperity, only where the decline has set in, a lot of buildings have been torn down so now it's a sort of semi-Swindon with the backs and sides of buildings exposed and quite a lot of impromptu parking lots. It wasn't very attractive and, given that it was Saturday lunchtime, there were precious few people about. Anyway, we rambled up Richmond street, admired the lovely old Post Office (thankfully not torn down) and rambled back down again, finding our way into the Covent Garden Market and Sebastian's for lunch. Veggie samosas for Mrs T and an egg sarnie for me; slurp on both counts I think. 


Then it was off to Springbank Park and the scenic river trail along the banks of the Thames. It took me a while to extract the bikes from the back of the Toadmobile and then make a ton of adjustments to get seats and handlebars correct, and to put the chains back on after they had mysteriously come off both bikes. Setting off for the trail, we managed to go in completely the wrong direction and ran out of pathway very quickly. However, a quick run across some grass and down a steep hill (you never want to go down hill at the start of your ride, really) and there we were, on an asphalt road by the river in a broad but wooded valley, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. It was nice to note that there were a lot more geese on the trail than people and we cycled for a kilometer or so before the heat and Mrs T's saddle forced a halt to our expedition. Yes, it was very warm and yes, the saddle on Mrs T's bike was falling apart, so we gave up the unequal struggle and headed back to the car. It was really very nice down there, even if the river was very stinky in places; I think this is a place where the bikes will be pressed into service again, although I may do the maintenance before we leave home next time.


And that, dear reader, is about the sum of the day's activities. We did stop on the way back to the campground to buy a couple of DVDs for later viewing and the least said about the fist full of chocolate that accompanied the DVDs the better! I did get the awning out, strung it with lights, then put it all away again after a couple of hours as the weather was threatening again. Sure enough, the rain that has followed us all over North America this season turned up at around midnight, with the usual thunder and lightning. My hectic day had, however, rendered me near comatose halfway through the second DVD so when I did go to bed I heard nothing of the storm, and a good job, too.

Tomorrow we head home, although Monday is a bank holiday so we have a day to recuperate from our exertions because, as you know, glamping is very hard work indeed. I shall leave the awning stowed away so that it won't rain, 'cos I'm clever like that.

The Toads Are On The Road Again. Day 3

Day three and a lovely late start. Nowhere to be in the morning so I thought I'd check out the KOA's facilities and see if they held up to the brochure's claim of "sparkling washrooms"; these are the things you do when you're camping, folks.

Yes, they were clean, if not particularly private, although the water smelled a trifle odd in the shower; I'm not sure why. The indoor, heated pool looked quite inviting, apart from the big black dolphin painted on its floor which gave me quite a turn, I can tell you. Not having our cossies, we thought about skinny dipping but really didn't want to frighten any children. I did check the long list of rules and it didn't say that we couldn't skinny dip but I suspect we may have caused a bit of a stir had we tried. Shame.

Then we indulged in a bit of camper watching, which involves sitting in your lawn chair out side your trailer, drink in hand, watching the other campers arrive and set up. Even with the limited experience we toads have, we can see when people people are struggling to set up, or not struggle of course, so we sat back and enjoyed the show. This was the Friday of the long weekend so from about midday, people started to arrive. First we had a guess as to which site they may be been sent to then, if it was close by, we'd watch the backing in process. Actually this sounds a bit cruel when I analyse it, but we've had it done to us so all's fair in the camping game.

Our first biggie was a huge, and I mean huge, motor home. Probably 35 feet long and easily 12 feet tall, this monster had been allocated the site to the rear of ours so we had ringside seats. I'd been ruminating on how a reasonably sized trailer would get in under the large but quite low bough of the tree on the site and now this behemoth was going to show us. We were a little concerned that all the paraphernalia on the roof of the motor home, air conditioners, aerials and the like, was going to get get swept off but the driver was obviously very experienced and expertly jigged and rejigged the beast until he was in safely; we even offered some additional eyes in addition to his backup camera and mirrors. Then the driver (from Saskatchewan according to his licence plate) set to and had all his services hooked up in minutes and we were most impressed. OK, so the barbecue that slid out on and rolling frame from the one of the panels on the side of the bus was impressive, but so was the guy's effortless set up.

We'd had half an eye on a pop up trailer being popped up, which was interesting, but then came the young family with their long, boxy trailer, setting up just a few feet away. The trailer looked quite new, as did their pick up truck, but the man of the family backed it in to the space quite easily, or so we thought. Initially he backed too far in and wanted to connect his services to the wrong site, which his wife and he disputed for a while, then they let the kids and the dog out, which was a big mistake. Having established the site boundaries (wifey won) he pulled forward but then realised that he was too close to the tree to allow his "slide out" to work. A slide out, for those non-North Americans amongst you is a section of the trailer wall that slides out in bay window fashion and gives the trailer a much wider interior; I think that's the principle Dr Who's Tardis works on. Anyway, more backing in and out didn't get them suitably positioned and now the kids were getting in the way, so tempers were fraying. Wifey climbed in the the truck and did  some more backing in and out (Mrs T was most impressed) but it took her husband to finally place the trailer so that the slide out would work and they weren't encroaching on the other sites. Phew! We watched them set up, marveling at the array of wooden blocks they carried to help with the leveling process, and the swanky bricklayers spirit level they used to attain a level nirvana; I'll bet you could play billiards in that trailer when they'd finished. No sooner had their truck been emptied of bikes, barbecues and boxes, they all piled back into the truck and headed out somewhere, obviously they had no time to spare for billiards!

Curiously, the campground's maintenance team chose this time to start cutting the grass on some of the sites, including ours. Given that the place had been all but empty the day before, it seemed odd that the guy on the mower felt the need to whiz in and out of trailers and cars but maybe that's how he keeps his day interesting? 


Trailers were arriving thick and fast but it was time for us to scrub up and head out for our theatre appointment in Stratford, so our voyeurism was going to have to be put away for the evening. Stratford Ontario is famed for its theatres and every summer puts on a festival where the paying public is treated to a number of Shakespeare's finest plays plus a few others; Mrs T can give you the full history of the Festival and how it's made the town what it is today. Last year we went to see West Side Story at the Festival Theatre, this year it was Jesus Christ Superstar at the Avon. Eagle eyed readers will spot that neither of these productions is Shakespearean but heck, we're in it for the entertainment. Besides, JCS had excellent reviews, even from old Lloyd Webber himself, so we knew it would be good.  

Once we'd established where the Avon Theatre actually was (it wasn't where I though it was!) we parked up just yards from the place (on a meter that I made Mrs T stump up a $2 coin for, even though we only needed to pay 40 cents - I'm made of money, me) and instantly made a booking for dinner at Renee's Bistro because tables timed for the theatre are quite hard to get if you don't book ahead. We then mooched about for a while, looking in the shops and moaning about how hot it was, before returning to Renee's for our grub. The food at Renee's is very good and we left replete with only a short stagger to the theatre and the climb to very nearly the back row of the balcony; the only seats we could get at a price we could reasonably manage. Tut. There wasn't an empty seat in the place and most of the audience were bright young things; us oldies were in the minority as far as I could see. The last time I'd seen this production was in 1978 at the Cambridge Theatre in London's West End. At that time it had been playing there since 1972 and was looking a bit tired, but it was still great to see; obviously I was ready for some comparisons, or at least I would have been if I could remember that far back! As it happened, the production here at Stratford was excellent, taking much from the 1973 film but updating the dancing and costumes to make it a great show. The actors playing Judas and Mary Magdalene stood out as the best on the night but all the cast and orchestra were wonderful, even viewed from the back of the theatre! I have yet to get used to North American audiences; this one wanted to clap at the end of every song but, as the show moves along at a fair old pace, it didn't really help. Still, I'm just a crusty old Englishman so what do I know?

Back at the now almost full campsite, armed with chocolate bars and a funny DVD (Bill Maher's Religulous, a sure antidote to the evening's earlier religious theme), we wound down the night and settled down very late, tired but happy campers, just as we should be.

Saturday is a free day so maybe we'll see a movie or maybe a mooch around London's parks; it's days like these that make me realise that I do like this camping lark!

The Toads Are On The Road Again. Day 2

Groan. After what felt like just five minutes sleep, I levered myself out of bed this morning expecting us to be surrounded by the newly formed Lake London, or a field of smashed and bashed trees, given the storm we'd had the night before. But no, all was benign and tranquil, apart from a few puddles and some leaves stuck to Towed Haul's skin. Well, it sounded like a dreadful storm but maybe being in a trailer is a bit like being in a metal drum. Ho Hum.

Anyway, today's excursion was to the Farmer's Market in St Jacobs, about 100 Kms north east of us. It sounds like a long way to go and get some cucumbers but this market is well known in this part of Ontario and is well used by both local farmers and the buying public. Proof, if proof were needed, was in the unseemly scramble for a parking spot in the very large lot provided. I have to say that neither Mrs T or I had high hopes for this trip and we made it probably so that we could get a look at some of the Mennonites that live in the area and see how they used the market as a means of boosting their farm income. As it turned out we saw plenty of Mennonites offering their wares at the market, and even saw one of their horse drawn vehicles being driven down the road; it was a scene right out of Witness. Mennonites are like the Amish of Pennsylvania (and other places), eschewing motorized transport and farm machinery in favour of doing most mechanical things with the use of horses. I'll admit to a fair bit of morbid fascination with this sect, especially as they are oft to be seen in South Western Ontario. I certainly appreciate that Canada and Canadians work hard to preserve the religious freedom of most of its people but I do struggle, though, with the fact that the Mennonite women have to wear a kind of uniform; something on their heads, plain and modest clothing and no kind of enhancements in the shape of hair styles or makeup. The men don't seem to have such restrictions and that doesn't seem quite fair to me, but each to their own I guess.

Quite apart from the Mennonite interest, the market was actually very good. Masses, and I mean masses, of fruit and vegetable stalls all displaying amazing produce, and so colourful, too. There were also plenty of food stalls, cooked or otherwise, clothing stalls and, of course, lots of what my mum refers to as “Tat”, ranging from flags of the world to leather goods to counterfeit sports clothing. There were huge numbers of people there, hence the parking, and so many of them seemed to be sitting down eating. Naturally we didn't want to look out of place, so we bought some pastries from the British Bakery stall and enjoyed pasties and sausage rolls in the open air, as you do.

We ended up buying corn, tomatoes, fruit, more pastries, bread and a couple of bits for an upcoming Tadpole birthday, which was not only a fair haul but a relatively inexpensive one, too. Also, there was no rain!

We then decided on a quick spin around St Jacobs “village”, although as most of it's on a long, straight road it's not easy to go around; more through than anything else. It was heaving with visitors so we called only at the “Mill & Silo Shops”, a collection of expensive outlets in guess what? An old mill and its silos. There was a place there called A Taste of Scotland (or something similar) where I was tempted by a Tam O'Shanter with attached ginger wig and a leather sporran. Fortunately I saw sense and left with neither, scared off by the $10 pack of Heinz baked beans, the same item which retails in Chatham at $4.99. Wee Jock McRipoff indeed.

Then it was off to Tim Hortons for a coffee and to enjoy some of the sweet pastries we'd bought at the market; Bienenstich, a Mennonite favourite apparently and Strudel, to reflect of the German influence in this part of Ontario. See how culture aware we are?

We decided it was best to drop our loot (I was going to use the word “booty” but it seems to have a quite a different meaning these days) at Towed Haul before heading into London to take advantage of Staples “Teacher Appreciation Day” and the 15% discount it offered (Teachers, eh? Tons of holidays and discounts in Staples. Tut). We came out with an electric pencil sharpener (can you get electric pencils?) and a calculator, although that doesn't tell the whole story, as you will see. Then it was off to Chapters to get some books for the Tadpoles, where we were engaged in conversation by a very excitable, though very pleasant, assistant called Jody who helped us with some choices. It was four for the price of three day (can you spot the theme?) so four books were duly purchased. Then it was off to another branch of Staples (for the rest of the story) where we left the store with a very swanky office chair (in a box) for Mrs T, bought with the benefit of the teacher's discount, so everyone was very happy.

Back at the campsite, two very tired Toads (remember last night's storm?), retired to their trailer, had a meal of fresh produce and pastries, then settled to reading and blogging. I say blogging but I spent a frustrating evening fighting with the KOA WiFi network that was being so slow that I could have gone out and bought a copy of the Daily Telegraph in the time it took the PC to load the front page. Tsk.

Tomorrow is culture day. An hour or two around the town of Stratford, which is a most agreeable place, then to the Avon Theatre for a performance of Jesus Christ Superstar, a production that has had rave reviews this year and, judging by the scarcity of tickets, is very popular. We are sitting up on the lighting gallery with the spotlight operators but I'm sure the view will be excellent! See tomorrow's entry for the Toad's Theatre Column.

Toads on the Road. Again.

You just can't keep a good toad down, or at home. The lure of the open road has been too much to bear and here we are, out in Towed Haul, listening to the rain on the roof once more.


To be fair, this trip wasn't on whim; we have an appointment at the Avon Theatre in Stratford on Friday evening so thought we'd make a weekend of it. It isn't quite the weekend we had planned, though, because being the slipshod toads that we are, we forgot that this is the Labour Day long weekend, the last hurrah of the summer. So, when I went to book the camp site near Stratford that is "never full", it was, and had been for months. We find ourselves, therefore, in the KOA London campground, 60 kms from Stratford but a mere 200 metres from the 401 Highway, which is convenient if a little noisy.


Kampgrounds of America (KOA) are family oriented campgrounds that offer quite a high standard for quite a high price, right across America (and Canada it would seem). Airstream folk have differing views of KOA, often based on the cost and the presence of snot-nosed kids, but we find this KOA to be quite nice. It's certainly clean and tidy, has precious few kids about (at the moment) and is not that busy, so it's looking good right now. We've also had lots of rain, something that we now demand for all camping trips, so top marks to KOA. We're off to another one next week so let's hope they can  satisfy all of our demands.


Anyway, back to the road. London (Ontario) is only about 100 kms from home but, strangely, is 100 Kms closer to Stratford than we would be at home and that, I'm sure you'll agree, is a bonus. The run up here was painless and, as mentioned above, as the campground is only 30 seconds from the highway, it was mighty easy to find; turn right at the London Husky is all we needed to know. It certainly made a change from the long days driving in the US, just a few short weeks ago, the car was hardly warmed up by the time we arrived.


Setting up without the Tadpoles presence was, er, smooth, and completed quickly. We put the awning out and, for once, weren't inundated with a monsoon grade rain storm, well not straight away, anyway. We settled down to a chicken casserole, put some music on and tried out the KOA's attempt at free WiFi. I say attempt because it isn't what I understand broadband access to be. However, connection was achieved, albeit very slow. As darkness fell, so did the rain but in a fit of unaccustomed foresight, we decided to bring the awning in, complete with Airstream fairy lights, just in case of further water events. As things turned out, it was a wise move.


Despite turning in at a reasonably early hour, reasonably and early are open to interpretation by the way, Mrs T was up and about at 3am, unable to sleep and intent on making toast. From my position in the back of the trailer it sounded like she was trying demolish the galley, although she did rush to assure me that she really was only making toast. Late night comestibles made and consumed (and duvet added to bed), we had another go at sleeping, only this time we were stopped by one of those thunderstorms that doesn't really want you to sleep. Rain hammered on the roof, thunder boomed and lightning illuminated Towed Haul's interior, ensuring a completely sleep free hour or so. As I lay there thinking that it had been a good idea to bring the awning in when we did, it occurred to me that I couldn't hear the road noise from the adjacent highway because of the din caused by the storm; see, every cloud has a silver lining. Boom, boom.


It was, dear reader, a struggle to surface in the morning. But we did, and those adventures will be in the next blog entry. Exciting, eh?