Inverhuron – Not the Highlands of Scotland.

Friday

The weather forecast said cloudy with an occasional shower. Well, I'd like to take issue with those forecasters on the meaning of the word occasional. Is every five minutes during the entire morning occasional? I don't think so. Of course, the showers stopped being occasional and morphed into one big shower lasting two hours, so I suppose they were right in the end.

Anyway, this was not the sort of weather we like to load and hitch the trailer in and is most definitely not the weather that we'd normally expect for the last week of June. It is, of course, exactly the weather that we always have when loading and hitching the trailer. One day, when it isn't raining, we'll be really shocked!

So, having loaded and hitched in the rain, Mrs T, the Tadpoles and I all climbed into the Toadmobile and headed north for Inverhuron, way up on the shore of Lake Huron.

We set the Sat Nav even though we know the route reasonably well, if only to keep an eye on the time and distance. Apart from the computer generated voice mangling pretty much every name, today he was most insistent on us turning left off Highway 2 well before we wanted to. I know not why he wanted us to head to Sarnia but he did; only we didn't want to play. So we endured his call for 'turn left....” for about 20 minutes and wondered about his dogged determination; uppity bloody machine!

Once on Highway 21 (The Bluewater Highway), we set the cruise control at 80 kph and let the Toadmobile go. Towed Haul was happy behind us and it was a straight three and a half hour run up to Inverhuron Provincial Park. The Tadpoles read and slept whilst Mrs T and I kept an eye out for the ridiculous; concrete chickens, imitation dogs, weird names (Bogie Street!) and humungous trailers. All of these things existed on Highway 21, and in abundance; we were happy as Toads in a pond.

Inverhuron Provincial Park lies in the shadow of Bruce Generating Station, the second largest nuclear generation site in the world and the biggest in North America. Whilst it was producing Heavy Water, right up until 1996, the park's campground was closed on safety and security grounds. Now that it was just a couple of reactors it was safe to camp (of course) so the campgrounds had been extensively refurbished and reopened in 2005, leaving us a with a fine and well kept camping area. Indeed, our pull though slot was straight, level and covered in gravel; perfect for a wet weekend. The only bad thing was the distance of the plots to the electricity connection point. In keeping the plots apart from one another (admirable), the park people put one power pillar between two sites (not so wise), leaving huge distances to cover with your bits of electric string. The first site we'd reserved turned out to have a cable run of over 100 feet, so we swapped our reservation for one that was a little less extravagant with its cable requirements. We actually carry 75 feet of cable but as each 50 foot length of 30 Amp cable costs $100 or more and weighs a ton, we thought that would be a sensible amount of cable; not here, though! That said, the Park people will lend you a cable if you want and I suspect that they do a roaring trade. The irony of the power pillars and the proximity to the Bruce Generating Station is not lost on me.

Camping it up at Inverhuron

Getting set up was quick and easy, even with the Tadpoles about. We were able to get out and explore after a wisely pre-prepared meal of chicken casserole. Even though the rain had stopped it was really overcast so, even though it was some time before the sun was due to set, we were in a dim light as we toured campground. We were only a few meters from the lake, that roared as its waves came in on a flat rock shelf. The woods in which the camping ground was situated were quite deep and dark but, as we were later to find, were full of wild flowers. We made it around to the beach, a lovely curved strip of sand backed by dunes. It was great to be walking out on yet another beach, albeit in the gathering gloom; it's why we bought Towed Hall of course.

When we turned in, the temperature was reading 11C, not really right for the last weekend in june. The forecasters did hold out some better news for Saturday but when are they ever right?

Saturday

When were the forecasters ever right? Not today!

I slept well so didn't hear the rain but it had certainly come down. Everything outside was wet and the sky was ominously grey. The temperature had gone down to 10C. A typical camping day, then.

More rain.

The campground shower block that was closest was shiny and new, so I had high hopes. I hit the "go" button for the water and out came such a high pressured rush that I could hardly put my hand under it. It wasn't particularly warm water, either. I persevered, though, getting battered and cooled all at once, wondering how long the resulting headache would last. Back at the trailer, I had inadvertently switched off the water heater in the night (who put the switch so close to the bathroom light anyway?), so whilst Mrs T had a shower in the trailer, that wasn't so warm either. A great start to the day.

We wanted to go into the nearby town of Kincardine to visit the Farmers' Market, so were all scrubbed up and ready to go quite early. Sadly, hats and sweatshirts were required and the weather didn't look like it would improve. We found the market but it was in such an out of the way place that it wasn't very well populated either by farmers or customers. Still, we picked up some baked goods and eyed up the Menonite stall holders in their traditional dress; a sort of Amish Lite. That phase of the day was completed in ten minutes so we headed into downtown Kincardine. Then headed out again. It wasn't the day for sightseeing so we decided to head south to Goderich to the (rather excellent) bakers' there. As we drove, the cloud came down and so did the rain, in a kind of on and off drizzle in which an umbrella is useless. Goderich was busy as was their farmers' market, which was a little livlier than the one in Kincardine. We bought some German pretzels (at a price) then repaired to Culbert's the Baker to stock up on bread, cakes and buns; they not only do great bread but their custard slices are just so yummy!

As the rain was still coming down and we were already getting moans from the Tadpoles about being cold, we climbed back into the Toadmobile and headed north again, this time for a call on the Pine River Cheese factory (No cheese made on the premises yet). As it turned out, the factory shop was OK and stocked some interesting stuff, like imported English Chocolate Digestive Biscuits and German Frankfurter sausages. We did buy some cheese, as well. The sun even came out (briefly) whilst we were there.

We then made our way back to the campsite and set about demolishing some of the goodies we'd bought in the morning. Such was the weather that we had to sit in the trailer to eat, which is not a good thing to have to do at this time of year. I know we should be grateful that we're not in a tent, but I don't think it's too much to ask for a little bit of fine weather. Tsk.

The afternoon was taken up with a nice walk through the park, looking at and photographing some gorgeous wild flowers. The Tadpoles wanted to swim but the water was grim looking, grey and very cold; even the Big Tadpole wouldn't go in when we eventually called his bluff. We also watched some mini Crayfish lurking on the sand and managed to get wet feet in the (surprisingly fast moving) surf. Whenever I encounter these beaches I always struggle to comprehend that the water isn't salty because it's a lake, not the sea. It's a very big lake but it's still a lake. I'm just an immigrant, though, so I'm still learning about these things.

A Slipper Orchid, of which there were a few to be seen

Back at the trailer and it was time to break out the firewood. The park had sold us some gold plated bags of wood (they'd have to be gold plated at those prices – all proceeds to the Park, though) and it turned out to be some pretty good burning material. It burned slowly but very hot, which meant that our meal was cooked in 10 minutes and we still had a bag and a half of wood to get through. No matter, we did the campfire thing, making S'mores and having a jolly good sing song. Well, we would have had a sing song but you know how strict they are about excessive noise in these campgrounds......

Lake Huron is famous for its sunsets so we were delighted to see the clouds part in the early evening and the sun head westwards towards the horizon. At about 9.20pm we left the jolly camp fire and stood on the edge of the woods overlooking the lake and over the next 40 minutes witnessed a beautiful sun set. I took so many photographs that I could fill a book with them! 

Sunset over Lake Huron

Back at the Campfire we sat and toasted ourselves before heading off to bed. The weather still wasn't playing nicely because whilst it remained dry, the temperature dipped below 10C, which I haven't tired of saying, is not good for the end of June. What would Sunday bring?

Camp Fire Frivolity

Sunday

Sunday brought 11C but at least it was sunny. The trailer was all steamed up, like it was in April but as I headed out to the euphemistically named “Comfort Station” (shower block to ordinary folk), things looked decidedly on the up. Well, they would be given that we were heading home.

I left the snoozers and snorers in the trailer whilst I sorted myself a cup of coffee and sat out in the sun, like a big fat lizard warming my blood. I hesitate to mention the big scoop of ground coffee I dropped on the floor of the trailer and had to clean up whilst the Tadpoles slumbered, not because it was evidence of my cack-handedness but more because whilst my Aero Press coffee system might make an excellent cup of coffee, it's still a faff to do when creeping around prone bodies, all snoring their heads off.

I was joined by Mrs T when she realised that the sun was up and we enjoyed a few warm and Tapole free minutes just idling in the sunshine.

Proof of fine weather!

Breakfast (when everyone had surfaced) was supposed to be pancakes and syrup but, due to the entirely non-stick nature of our non-stick electric skillet, the pancakes stuck firmly to the pan and what remained turned into a lukewarm, semi-congealed mess. Toast for me, then! We resolved then and there to chuck the skillet in the bin and stick to toast and cereal in future; there's decision making for you.

There was another Airstream on site (an '03 Safari, 28' with slideout) and its owners dropped by for chat. (That's Airstreamers for you). They were a retired couple, non-churchy (hurrah!), non-Wally Byam Caravanners (hurrah!) and avid bird watchers (interesting). They had been on a break from watching birds (there wasn't much of note in the park, apparently) and were heading off to Rondeau later in the day to meet up with friends, so whilst keen they were not always on watch, as it were. I liked that.

As the weather was fine at last, I took the Tadpoles down to the rocky lake shore again and we paddled for a while. Where the rock shelf ended, the water looked clear and inviting but, the gradual numbness spreading up my legs told me that it might be a tad chilly in there. Again, the big Tadpole was desperate to go in but relinquished his big idea as he paddled. Maybe it'll be better in August?

Breaking camp is a slow process with our little helpers, ever keen though they are. We divvied up the jobs and were hitched up and ready to roll just on checkout time. We stopped to dump the waste tanks (yes, that waste) and whilst it's a stinky old job, it is kind of cathartic; cleansing, even. Small Tadpole helped out (I've told her that flip-flops are the worst footware for dumping poo, but she never listens), she seems to have a thing for the latex disposable gloves that I use. Weird!

Heading back south on Highway 21, there was plenty of traffic, all of it wanting to overtake us. Not that I was concerned; we simply set the cruise control at the speed limit and let the Toadmobile do the work. I still struggle with people who tailgate, so close to the back of the trailer that I can't see them at all. Surely if they dropped back a little, not only would they become visible (and therefore safer) but they'd get a better view ahead themselves and be able to make good decisions about overtaking. As it is, they veer out sharply and try suicidal passing moves, then get all cross with us because (gasp!) we're travelling (only) at the speed limit. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

On the road

Mrs T had prepared sarnies for the trip so we pulled of the road in the little town of Bayfield. Bayfield is posh. It has a heritage trail, old houses and some very expensive shops. So, as is our wont, we parked up at the end of Main Street and broke open the picnic, thus instantly lowering the tone of the place. We did park in front of a building site so I reckon the locals (and visitors) should have welcomed a lovely, retro-styled, silver trailer in their midst. I bet they didn't though! Still, we paid our dues by buying $4 ice creams and generally looking like trailer trash.

The remainder of the trip home was uneventful, albeit that there was more traffic on the cross-country section towards Bothwell and Thamesville than I'd seen before. Not that it was a problem, but people flying past us on country roads when we were up around 90 Kph can be a bit disconcerting. We managed a fairly healthy gas consumption figure, especially given that we were more heavily loaded than usual. Keeping it slow really does save fuel; and is a touch safer, too.

Our next jaunt is to Rondeau Park for three nights, the first week of the summer hols; won't that be fun? The weather forecast isn't great but as the forecasters here can't get it right for tomorrow, I'm not worrying too much about next week.

Hi de hi, campers!

A Weekend In Goderich - Day Three

Our final day at Point Farms.

It's amazing how quickly and easily you can get packed up without the "help" of the tadpoles. A slow start and a lazy breakfast but we were still hitched and ready to go before midday.Our near neighbours, the ones with HUGE dog, watched us go, marveling I think at the Sienna towing the Airstream. They'd spoken the night before and were amazed that such a combination worked; ah, the miracle of modern science.

Our run home was very good and we managed just on 18 miles to the gallon; it must have been down hill! The road was quiet but we seemed to be plagued by tail gaters, probably because we had the audacity to drive exactly on the speed limit. One fellow didn't realise that were pulling up quite sharply at one point (to allow a left turner) and ran off the road avoiding us. That sounds dramatic but all the roads here have a bit of extra width that allows such things.

There's very little else to say, except that Point Farms, and Goderich, are lovely places. Top marks to the Parks' staff who were personable and helpful, and the whole place was very well maintained. We will be back!

Total mileage 270 Kms (168 miles)

Average consumption 17 litres per 100 Km (16.5 miles per gallon (Imp))

We're getting better!

A Weekend In Goderich - Day Two

No rain in the night! Dawn dawned and although cloudy, the day looked quite pleasant as I did my morning amble over to the bath house. This was was all shiny and new and to the exact pattern of all the other new bath houses that have been built in Ontario Parks over the winter. It was clean, though, and the water good and hot, so no complaints from me. On the reverse amble I had a good gander at the other sites and the trailers parked thereon. This site had a pair of camp hosts (not camp in the theatrical sense), not something I'd seen in a provincial park before; maybe I hadn't been looking. They had a gigantic motorhome and looked very comfortable with their little car (towed behind the Moho) and their portable satellite dish. Actually I never actually caught sight of either of the hosts whilst at Point Farms so I was wondering what they actually did! 

On a slight tangent I have to say that TV use in trailers is interesting. Most trailers come equipped with at least one TV and an antenna built into the roof. One of the big accessories is the portable satellite dish and quite a few campgrounds have a cable TV system; our trailer certainly has a cable TV hook-up. Indeed, one guy that was camped near us did very little else except watch TV; he was even there at 8am on Saturday morning watching some sport or other (see, I like to be nosey). I'm not entirely sure about this fascination with the TV when out in the great outdoors. We've only ever used the antenna once, to catch up on the Royal Wedding, and used the DVD player perhaps three times. I really can't see the point of going to a campground just to watch TV. Still, I think I'm in the minority there because everyone seems to be well equipped televisually. (Is televisually a word?).

Goderich from the air. It looks a bit like Paris from here....

Anyway, off we went into Goderich to have ourselves a nice day. First we went to Canadian Tire and managed to pick up a pack of spare locking pins, much to my surprise. They're just ordinary wire pins, reusable Cotter Pins really, but that store had them and they were even manufactured by the same people that manufactured the anti-sway bar that the pins were needed for, which was nice.

Then it was into Goderich proper and over to Colbert's Bakery to collect an order of cakes that Mrs T had phoned in during the week. Colbert's is excellent; it has a wide range of cakes and bread, made on the premises, and presented in a nice 1950s themed shop. I don't think they mean it to be themed like that, it's just that was the last time the shop fitters visited. For Canada, it's very olde worlde. We came out with armfuls of stuff and started to wonder when and if we'd ever eat it all. Then we visited the weekly Farmer's Market in the Courthouse grounds. It was small but the produce was amazing. There were some Mennonite farmers, complete with half-beards and straw hats, selling the most wonderful looking cakes. What a dilemma! We resolved to leave the Mennonite cakes for another weekend, but it was a tough choice.

We were about to visit a shop in the square and must have paused to look lost because a friendly local sauntered up and not only directed us to where we needed to be but gave us a heap of useful information about Goderich as well. This is why we like the place.

Lunch was taken at J's Bistro in Courthouse Square (which is circular). The menu wasn't extensive but I had an excellent salmon club sandwich and Mrs T had a lovely, light and fragrant curry; quite a rarity in these country climes. The Bistro is highly recommended! (Phone (519) 524-5392).

The 120 steps

The Beach

After lunch we headed back to Point Farms to explore the beach and search out the site of the hotel that had once stood there. From where we were camped, the beach was at the bottom of 120 wooden steps; a nice walk but maybe not when loaded with deck chairs and a cooler. The beach was part flooded at the base of the cliff but we negotiated our way out to the sandy bits and spent a happy half-hour sidling up along Lake Huron. We walked back up the bluff via the access road and surprisingly came face to face with a big bill board that had a painting of the old hotel on it. Apparently it had closed in 1913 on the death of its owner and had never re-opened. It certainly would have had commanding views of Goderich and the lake. ‎

The site of the old Hotel

Being such whirlwinds of activity, we had supper under the awning of the trailer, watched a DVD inside the trailer and then went to bed! That's camping, just as we like it.

Toad Hall and the Toad Mobile

A Weekend In Goderich - Day One

After the exertions of our trip to Upstate New York, we decided a more local trip was in order. So on a fine Friday evening we loaded Toad Haul and headed north for Point Farms Provincial Park, nestling on the shores of Lake Huron, near the town of Goderich, Canada's prettiest town apparently.


The run was about 200 Kms, the first 120 of which took us across country, following the grid patterned roads between Chatham and Lambton Shores. It's fairly flat and apart from an annoying number of right angled junctions, quite an easy passage, even with the trailer in tow. We'd not even arrived in Thamesville, the first town out from Chatham, when the SatNav was suggesting a faster route. Well, being adventurous types we plunged off the main road and followed the man in the satellite. First we were caught up with some heavy transport, then a tractor, then some construction work; a faster route this most definitely wasn't. Still, we make reasonable time and our gas mileage was, according to the Toad Mobile's information screen, looking quite good. 


Once on Highway 21, the road that hugs the Huron shoreline, things improved as there were no turn offs and precious few Stop signs for the next 80 Kms. I selected the Automatic Gearbox, set the Cruise Control to 80 kph and let the Sienna do the work. The gas mileage improved and the presence of 7000lb of trailer on our bumper seemed to fade; I can't say we drove like Towed Haul wasn't there but the car pulled that thing with barely any complaint. It was a most enjoyable trip.


Arriving at Point Farms, we pulled into an empty gate area and went into the office to register, clutching as we did so, our bright yellow dossier, crammed with information relating to our trips from the licence plate details to the booking receipts. The young woman behind the desk, not your usual mouth breather I have to say, was most taken with our dossier and the organisational skills that it implied, even to the extent of telling her colleague about it. Apparently most campers arrive in some state of disarray and we were very much the exception. Of course, a lot of people would think us simply nerdy, but I could see that we were dealing with a fellow pedant!


Anyhoo, paperwork completed, we were directed to the dump station where we could fill the fresh water tank. Having pulled into the water bay I realised that we were facing the wrong way so set off out of the bay and down the road to turn around. Fortunately there was a space big enough to do a U-turn with a 28 foot long trailer but I really should have removed the anti-sway bars from the hitch because as I did the 180 degree turn I heard something ping. Although I didn't realise it at the time, it was was of the locking pins from the left hand sway bar, installed incorrectly by yours truly. I only discovered the loss when we went to unhitch at the camp site and I immediately remembered that pinging sound. I did go back to look for it but it was nowhere to be found; a trip to Canadian Tire was called for the next day.


Once watered, we found our camp spot and did a canny 180 degree turn using the the empty plot opposite and positioned ourselves facing the fire pit. The site wasn't large but it was on gravel, albeit that it was very wet underfoot. Unhitching and positioning is getting easier with each trip and we even had one side of the trailer up on a pair of leveling blocks; there's posh for you. 

Safely anchored at Point Farms

An exploratory walk was undertaken, before it became too dark, and then we settled in for our regular Friday repast of Baked Potato and English Heinz Baked Beans, which was excellent as usual. Ah, this is the life.

New York or Bust - Day 4

Packing up and travelling home day and yet, mysteriously, very little rain. Very odd.


It took us a while to hitch the trailer to the Sienna, my backing up skills having forsaken me somewhat. It was a bit touch and go getting the electrical connector to fit, it still being a little mangled, but it went together in the end. Getting the trailer out from some very nearby trees and yet avoiding putting the car into the drainage ditch was proving a little difficult but we managed, albeit that we ended up facing the wrong way on the road. 


Holding tank dumping went well and we were even able to flush the poo tank properly as there was some piped water handy. A secondary check of the lights found that the connector wasn't quite as well connected as we'd thought. Still, a bit more wrestling with it and all was hunky dory.


Then we were off! Hugging the lake again, ignoring all entreaties from the man in the Sat Nav to turn left, heading for the New York Thruway once more. It was nice to do the trip in the daylight, especially as we had to overtake a tractor on the lake road. Once on the Freeway we headed towards Buffalo and realised just how windy it was. We were driving right into the gale, and rain later on in the day, and the gas needle was plummeting! I kept it at 60mph and let everything overtake us, and I mean everything. The speed limit was 65mph but like in Canada, that only seemed to be only a suggestion. 

After just one stop, we rolled into Buffalo and made for the border crossing over at Lewiston. Unfortunately, so did everyone else, so the queue for the immigration check was epic. There was nothing we could do about it, though, and amused ourselves watching people trying to jump the line and failing miserably. The lady on the customs post did have a bit of a double take when she misread the date on my permit and asked how I came to have a form issued that very day. She backed off when she realised that it said March, not May, so we were allowed to proceed, actually a bit more quickly than many around us.

Back into Canada and we still had the wind. Shame we didn't have the gas as well because I had to take a detour to fill up, frightening everyone in the gas station as I swung the Airstream into a position by the pumps. That bit of road skirts the western end of Lake Ontario and it was ever so windy. That said, the Airstream followed obediently and we cruised past a truck towing a lighter trailer that was being dragged all over the place with the gusts.

Lake Ontario, next to the QEW

We still had to negotiate the Niagara Escarpment at Hamilton and I was wondering how the Toadmobile would manage, being fully loaded and with the wind against us and all. I needn't have worried, though, because although chugging at 90 Kph, we powered up the hill and even accelerated to pass a truck; goodness I was proud!


Then it was just wind and rain all the way home. We ended up being mighty close to running out of gas at the end but just managed to get into Chatham before we expired. 


It was 350 miles from Taughannock Falls to Chatham and we had used two full tanks of fuel, recording a dreadful 10.5 mpg (US), which is 12.5 mpg (Imperial). Shocking!


Still, it was a great weekend and I'm really pleased we did the trip. 


Next up is a local trip to Goderich; I hope we can better that gas mileage. 

New York or Bust - Day 3

Day 3 dawned as the prospect of eggs and bacon had everyone up relatively early.


American bacon is not what I'm used to these days; the style we Brits enjoy is known as Peameal over here and isn't always available. American bacon is like thin streaky, but requires cooking until crisp, which is OK I suppose; when in Rome, eh?


Cooking outdoors is always great and the scrambled egg was added to the bacon skillet (after removing the bacon and most of the grease), so we had a lovely oatmeal effect to the eggs. Mind you, the egg burned onto the supposedly non-stick skillet  and poor old Mrs T (who had rashly volunteered) had to scrape it all off again. Hey ho, it was a good start.

I took the tadpoles down to the lake level, on foot this time, and we then proceeded to climb back up the hill, following the rim trail overlooking the valley. A mixture of steps and steep hill, we walked a mile or so until we were right up above the falls. The tadpoles were great, enjoying the views and not complaining (much) about the exertion. I think they enjoyed the walk back down the hill better, though.


Then it was across country to Watkins Glen State Park. The countryside was very English looking with dips and hollows and roads that weren't arrow straight. The fields were small, too, and some were bounded with lines of trees; it was all most bucolic. There was a startling gap to be seen, though, in the relative prosperity of some of the dwellings. Near the lake and on the bigger farms, houses were large and well cared for, some made from stone, too. Further inland, though, there were lots of "Trailer Homes", many of them looking very ramshackle but all occupied. This is an aspect of the US that we don't get to see in films and on TV, and this is all in the relatively affluent New York State; I think it gets worse the further south you go. In the UK, and Canada, there may not be as many fabulously opulent homes, but then there are way fewer poor dwellings, too. America certainly is a land of contrast.


On that theme, the town of Watkins Glen didn't exactly excite, it too looking a bit run down. For the motor racing buffs, the Watkins Glen circuit is just outside of town and most weekends in the summer will see the place filled with motor racing types.


Watkins Glen State Park was, though, something else. Firstly, we didn't have to pay anything to get in as our pass for Taughannock Falls was good there. Then we headed off to a little walkway through the rock and into whole new world! The little stream that makes its way down to Seneca Lake has forced itself through a very narrow gorge with spectacular results. There are steep sided cliffs, dripping with water, deep gullies frothing with the rush of the stream, waterfalls roaring constantly. There is a good, solid trail that follows the stream up the gorge, across bridges, under (and through!) cliffs and behind waterfalls. The gorge is so narrow in places that it's hard to see the sky, but it also opens up so that the woods on either side can be seen right to rim. We walked the whole of the trail from the car park at the lake end to the car park a mile or so (and an awful lot of steps) up the valley. Of course, after all that exertion, an ice cream and a bar of chocolate were the only natural restoratives. 

We were able to take a rim trail back that ran gently down to where the car had been left, realising that it was also a much drier route that the before, which was handy.


So then it was back across the countryside to the camp site, where we did camping type things, like trying out the new propane powered barbecue and listening to the other campers getting drunk; the outdoor life really is not for the faint hearted!


Day four was the day to head home so we hit the hay reasonably early in the hope of getting moving at a sensible time in the morning. Would that happen? Read on......