I am encouraged that there have been readers of the first post - Chapter 1 - so I will continue by adding later chapters every couple of weeks. I am experiencing some difficulty with the photos in my original files, so Chapter 2 may be without images.

Chapter 2    1967 West to East - Canadian experiences

The original plan for our two years in Canada on our around-the-world odyssey was to spend one year working in a western province followed by one year working in an eastern one. 

Midway through our first January in BC we were persuaded by colleagues, and by watching TV reports of the weather in Ontario and points east, that a second year in BC was infinitely preferable for climate and comfort. We had fallen in love with Vancouver Island so we extended our contracts in Nanaimo for a second year, and that meant two months of vacation in July and August. The planning for a cross-Canada driving trip began, and we started by equipping the VW station wagon for the long journey to Quebec and back.

In the spring we acquired sleeping bags and a solid 3 inch thick block of foam which we cut to fit on top of a custom shaped piece of plywood which extended the length of the solid surface of the station wagon with the rear seat folded down. This enabled us to sleep in the station wagon without having to bend our knees. At a local hardware store we found some expanding coiled wire and we designed, made and strung sliding blackout curtains for the side windows and rear of the sleeping compartment. Netting envelopes to slip over the front doors were made so we could leave windows open at night without being invaded by insects. Friends originally from the Prairies told tales of gigantic black flies and mosquitoes and convinced us this step was essential. 

The excitement in the planning was heightened when we realized that 1967 was a Centennial year for Canada and that many communities would have special events planned as celebrations. Additionally, Expo 67 was to be open in Montreal during the summer and a lengthy list of coincidental cultural events was being generated for that city. Many hours were spent with maps, automobile association guidebooks, packages mailed to us from Stratford, Niagara, Expo 67, Montreal, Ottawa and more. 

Being reluctant to retrace our route on the drive back to BC, we decided to enter the US at the Windsor/Detroit border crossing and drive west in the northern US states. Our local BCAA office provided the AA guides for those states, and more homework was required.

By the end of June, we had made final preparations - the car was packed with pillows, towels and clothes in soft-sided bags stored on the floor behind the front seats. We felt ready to spend our nights in campgrounds or parked in driveways of the contacts we had made in some cities on our potential route.

Our summer of adventure started with a night spent with friends in Chilliwack, just a short drive along the Fraser River from Vancouver. An evening of good food, too much wine and loud laughter resulted, but our plans to sleep in the station wagon for our first night were thwarted when our friends insisted we sleep in their spare room. The debut of sleeping in the VW was the next night, in Kamloops, and we blessed the opportunity to open the front netting-covered windows in the heat of the interior of the province - the minimum temperature overnight did not drop below 25C.

What can we say about our first drive through the Rockies? From the time we entered the first Canadian National Park and glimpsed the snow covered jagged peaks, our jaws repeatedly dropped as we pulled into each viewpoint and used superlatives to describe the scenery which was such a contrast to our Australian heritage of low, rounded hills. In particular we marvelled at the colour of the glacial lakes, at the tall, straight evergreen trees and we were as excited as young children when, at the top of a gondola ride up a mountain outside Lake Louise, we fed bushy-tailed squirrels.

Our next Canadian highlight was not until we hired a small dinghy when camping lakeside one evening in Saskatchewan. As we enjoyed the cool breeze off the lake, we heard a slap in the water over towards the shore, then again further out in the lake. Eventually we realized this was a beaver slapping its tail to distract us from the lodge he or she had somewhere on the lake. Fruitlessly, we rowed the boat towards the sound of each slap hoping to see the beaver at close range - only to find the next slap was in a totally different direction, and more distant. Les had some very stiff muscles the next day as we continued our drive east.

Being from Australia, and having visited some parts of the outback there, we provided much amusement when we were chatting to other campers in a campground just west of Winnipeg, Manitoba. In all sincerity we asked when we would see the really flat prairies. There were disbelieving smirks and smiles [they were too polite to laugh], but after some discussion they accepted our explanation that as we had driven across Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba, we could always see a silo or row of trees or perhaps a small gentle rise on the horizon. In comparison with the Aussie outback, we maintained it was not really as flat as we had been led to believe. 

After many hours of dull driving around Lake Superior and Lake Huron in Ontario we were pleased to turn south down towards Lake Ontario and towns and cities again.

Lest there is an impression that we ‘camped’ every night in our vehicle for the six weeks, we admit that early in the trip we had agreed to find a cheap motel every fourth or fifth night so that we could sleep in sheets, have a modern bathroom, and watch some TV. We had already found that campgrounds near city centres were rare, so we timed our ‘motel nights’ to coincide with our arrival in larger cities. Fortunately one such motel night was in Toronto. For some reason, Les experienced the worst gastric problems of the trip there, and he was glad there was ann indoor bathroom, not repeated dashes from VW to campground toilet block that night. It was a one night bug, but we were glad to continue east and leave behind that large metropolis and go on to delightful Ottawa.

Oh Canada! The Centennial - Expo 67 - Niagara - Stratford - wow!

Ottawa in 1967 was throbbing with patriotic visitors from all across the land. In bright sunshine, we visited the Parliament Buildings, watched the colourful changing of the guard, then followed the military band as it marched along Wellington Street. For Centennial year, the final number of the march was Bobby Gimby’s “Ca-na-da.” 

Those following behind the band linked arms and enthusiastically sang along. Not since have we seen such happiness and pride in a crowd in Canada - the people were dancing in the street [almost un-Canadian eh?].

We had dated tickets for Expo 67 and for opera in Montreal, so we reluctantly drove east from Ottawa to make acquaintance with some correspondents who lived in Longueil, just across the river from the Expo site and downtown Montreal. The family here, like many others in the area, had opened their house to relatives, friends and strangers like us. Most visitors were from other provinces. We slept in the VW in their large yard, but enjoyed their indoor plumbing, and along with the extended family and six other visitors from three other provinces we joined in the late night parties in the house. 

Expo 67 was our first international exposition. The weather was perfect, the parking lots huge, the crowds immense - and pavilions and restaurants were varied and wonderful. Fuller’s geodesic dome, the US pavilion, dominated the skyline, but although many other national pavilions were not as striking outside, the cleverness of the new display technologies inside intrigued us. Having tickets for only three days, we were very careful to plan so that a minimum of time was lost standing in lines or in retracing steps. Each day began in one of the parking lots which had signs of animals to assist visitors remember the location of parked cars. An efficient park and ride shuttle carried us and other excited ticket holders to the main gates where we were soon admitted to the grounds.

Nothing disappointed and all pavilions we visited had features we enjoyed. The Canadian pavilion, Katimavik, was one highlight - Ontario’s was another with its huge screen and film of aerial views of the province and sound track of “A place to stand.’ An indelible impression was left by the Laterna Magika show [black light theatre from Prague] in the Czech pavilion - and at our carefully selected pavilion restaurants at lunch we experimented with Cuban frog legs, arctic char and moose at the Tundra in Katimavik, cod cheeks in the Atlantic Provinces cafe [where we almost ordered seal meat but our consciences prevailed].

Late each afternoon we caught the shuttle back to the parking lot and listened as the driver called out in both official languages the names of the animals on the signs. From there it was a short drive to downtown Montreal. We changed some clothes and shoes to be more presentable for the operas which were held at the newly opened Place des Arts. 

Though several renowned opera and ballet companies from overseas visited Montreal that summer, our visit coincided with two operas which were Canadian productions with the Montreal Symphony Orchestra featured. We enjoyed our first Gounod’s “Faust” one night, and were absolutely overwhelmed by Verdi’s “Otello” the next evening. For this night of exhilarating music, Zubin Mehta conducted the orchestra and in the lead roles were sung by Jon Vickers, Louis Quilico and Teresa Stratas. When we became serious opera buffs years later we realized how fortunate we were to have been there for this combination of such world class stars at the peak of their careers. The duet between Otello and Iago in particular had the hairs standing up on the back of our necks, and a well deserved standing ovation followed.

With stimulating evening entertainment such as this, it is no wonder we still had enough energy to party into the early morning hours at the house in Longueil. Wine and beer flowed, conversation topics ranged widely as a dozen or more people, brought together by Expo, learned more about regions of Canada from one another, and gave and accepted hints and tips on negotiating Expo 67.

Niagara was next on our itinerary. Naturally we were impressed by the mighty falls, but the proliferation of wedding chapels, souvenir shops and the giddy crowds caused us to retreat to our station wagon and head west towards Stratford to find a quiet campground.

Though we were tired by the activities of Montreal and Expo, we had no time to rest. We had tickets at the Stratford Festival for an evening performance of Richard III [starring a young Alan Bates] and a matinee the next day of The Government Inspector. Both plays were performed in the spectacular Festival Theatre with its thrust stage and audience on three sides. The plays we saw were directed by Christopher Newton - a name which meant nothing to us then, but our paths crossed several times in the decade that followed.

Our plan for the evening after the matinee was to drive west to Windsor and cross into the US at Detroit. However, the travel gods must have felt we had been given too much good fortune during the previous three weeks. As we pulled out of the theatre’s parking lot to drive south to the 401 freeway, a radio news report informed us that the ‘race riots’ in Detroit had escalated. We learned that fires there were out of control, and the Ambassador Bridge had been closed indefinitely from Windsor to the US.

With reluctance, we consulted the maps and turned north - forced to retrace our path for the first time. Again we drove for dreary hours around Lakes Huron and Superior trying to make up time by changing drivers often and adding a couple of hours of driving a day to our normal schedule. Despite our best efforts, our rendezvous in Minneapolis with a colleague from Nanaimo was not possible due to the unexpected detour. So we scrapped plans to go that far south after crossing into the US and turned west to cross to the Dakotas, Wyoming and Montana.

There were some strong impressions from that route. A first for us was to drive along the highways and through towns and clearly see pick-up trucks with gun racks and guns in the back windows. When we parked at diners at lunch we could sometimes count upwards of 50 guns in other vehicles parked there too - very different from Australia and Canada.

The Mount Rushmore National monument was definitely a highlight as we visited the Dakota states, as was, in a small town, a Town Hall completely covered in corn cobs dyed with various shades of yellow and brown in geometric patterns .... cladding of a very different sort. 

The ‘big sky’ of Montana really did seem larger than usual, especially at sunset in a campground. We found the history of the Lewis and Clark Trail to be fascinating and we marvelled at what these two explorers had accomplished in very inhospitable terrain over 160 years previously, as we followed their path along the Columbia River into Oregon.

Original plans to spend more time in Portland and Seattle were scrapped once we began to feel the draw of Vancouver Island and our apartment in Nanaimo. We arrived back a couple of days ahead of the original schedule - glad of our own bed, real chairs instead of seats in the wagon, and our own bathroom.

Almost 6 weeks on the road had provided an eye-opening experience to the two landed immigrants from Australia, had given us an understanding of the size and diversity of Canada and the US, and planted the seed for more ‘camping in the car’ journeys that followed.

want to read travel tales of a very widely travelled ex-Australian Canadian?

I have been encouraged by friends to start this blog - over the past year I have been writing 'travel tales' covering forty years of a wide variety of trips - starting with our first overseas journey from Australia to Canada in 1966.
Every ten days I have been sending PDF files of new chapters to friends and relatives, and as the project is coming to a conclusion, many readers have suggested starting a blog and posting the chapters for others to read.

I was planning to provide a link to the PDF file but have not yet discovered the secret to that process, so instead below is the complete first chapter added here with tried and true 'cut and paste' strategy......

Chapter 1 - 1966      Travel deities and our first Plan B

Many civilizations and nations have, or had centuries ago, a god or goddess of travel. Even today, some travelers carry tributes to their travel god or goddess to ensure safe and happy journeys. 

Though we have not carried a medal to keep St. Christopher content, an oak leaf to honour the Roman goddess Fortuna Redux, travelled with acorns to invoke the Greek’s Artemis, or pacified the Polynesian goddess Hina with a two sided object, we look back on more than forty years of travel together to find that the gods and goddesses have smiled on almost all of our journeys.

But, our first major itinerary together was definitely not smiled upon by any of the deities. In 1966, a year after our wedding, we planned to cross the Pacific from Melbourne to Vancouver to find jobs as Landed Immigrants in Canada, and thereby earn money so that we could travel further and continue around the world. Using a travel agent, we booked our passage to ‘cruise’ on P&O’s SS Canberra, and as 1966 began, our planning intensified and we started counting the weeks before we would board and sail.

In May, we were notified that there was a British Seaman’s strike, that the Canberra was tied up in Southampton, and that her movements were uncertain. If the strike were to be short, our plans would be delayed; if the strike dragged on past a week or so, our plan to sail to Canada could not be salvaged. The strike lasted six weeks....

             

Arcadia and Canberra tied up in Southampton: June 1966.

So our first long trip together involved a switch to a Plan B - though the very same SS Canberra would feature later in our travels.

Flights to Vancouver were booked instead. In 1966 not all airlines used jet engine propulsion for their routes so consequently, my maiden flight [Pat had flown previously] was from Melbourne to Sydney on a very noisy and rattly propellor-driven aircraft - it may have been a Convair. The cross-Pacific flights were on jet aircraft, but before we landed in Vancouver we had to endure several lengthy stop-overs en route. Upon arrival, very tired, we discovered that only two of our three suitcases had reached the Vancouver airport at the same time we did. Maybe we should have been carrying an oak leaf?

 After that rocky beginning, as following pages will demonstrate, our travel tales are much more positive and rewarding. The gods and goddesses of travel smiled often after July 1966.

  We left our hearts in San Francisco - and Napa Valley

Once we had established ourselves in Nanaimo on Vancouver Island in British Columbia in August 1966, our first significant journey was a driving trip to San Francisco and back on our Christmas break that year. Several incidents and experiences on that trip amply demonstrated that the travel gods were smiling on us again.

In August, we had used a large percentage of the bank balance forwarded from Australia to buy a black, 1959 VW Beetle, and in December we were armed with AAA maps, guidebooks, and some reservations for accommodation en route. Within an hour of the end of the school day at the start of the holiday, we set off to spend the night in Victoria, just two hours distant.

After crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca to Port Angeles on the MV Coho the next morning, we drove around the scenic Olympic Peninsula in the pelting rain, before spending a night in Astoria, Oregon. We continued the next day down Highway 1 on the magnificent Oregon coast and drove across the famous Golden Gate bridge into San Francisco in the sunshine, late in the afternoon two days later.

Being total novices at finding the right places to go in large US cities, we consulted the helpful man at the desk of our motel - his recommendation was the Gray Line nightclub tour. This promised a pick-up at our motel, visits for a performance at three establishments, a drink at each, and delivery back to our motel. All this was for a set price with no guarantees as to which nightclubs would be included on any particular night, but we gambled and booked the tour for our second night in San Francisco.  A hectic day of sightseeing in wonderful San Francisco 

 occupied the following day. As first-timers to this city we drove down Lombardy Street, climbed the Coit Tower, strolled on the tall ships moored at Fisherman’s Wharf, visited Chinatown and rode the famous cable car. 

This made a nap necessary before the appointed hour for the nightclub tour. To our delight and surprise, there were only six people on this tour in a small, comfortable van. Our driver informed us that we were very lucky because we were going to visit three of his favourite places. The first stop was The Purple Onion and though some local and US national references went right over our Australian/Canadian heads, the stand-up comedians at this famous club were most entertaining and engaged the audience from the start.

                                        Coit Tower seen from Fisherman’s Wharf

From there it was a short trip to Finochio’s, which was celebrating 30 years in operation. We had no prior knowledge of this, but it proved to be a nightclub with all of the glitter and sophistication of the musical numbers provided by men - dressed as women. Our naive jaws dropped as we watched talented singers and dancers in phenomenal costumes; the appearance, movements, voices of the performers all totally convincing. The headliner was the famous “Male Sophie Tucker” who appeared at the club as the star of the show for almost 30 years.

As our driver steered us to the third nightclub, we did not believe anything could top what we had already experienced. How wrong could we be? At the Fairmont Hotel we were escorted to a table in the rear of a large ballroom - the Venetian Room - and presented with our drinks just as the lights dimmed and the orchestra on the stage played an introduction ---- for Tony Bennett! His set was almost an hour long. He very generously sang a wide ranging repertoire and as an encore, “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” which we learned later he had sung for the first time in that very room in 1962. 

We were still smiling when we left San Francisco the next morning on the short drive to the Napa Valley. Raised in Australia, and with Pat’s father being a very active member of the Bendigo Wine and Food Society, we young tourists had some background on vineyards, grape varieties and wine-making. We soon discovered that this knowledge was not very common amongst other tourists and when tours were offered, the guides began with very basic information. At our first choice for a visit, the very recently-opened Mondavi Brothers winery in its striking, white building, our guide was very excited to find we actually knew how wine was made, and suggested we do a very short version of the standard tour and proceed to the tasting room faster than was usual. After a special tasting of their newly-named Fume Blanc - Mondavi’s attempt to move away from the typically semi-sweet Sauvignon Blanc made at that time in the US - and some reds as well, we needed a nap in our little Beetle before continuing to our second stop for the day.

Wine lovers might be amused to read that our other two choices for winery visits were Christian Brothers and Heitz Cellars. 

At the former, the long history of the very forward-looking Brother Timothy, his work at the heritage building, and the tasting of the wines and brandy were most enlightening. Joe, at Heitz Cellars, met us in what was almost a tin shed, and when he discovered we ‘knew something about wine’ he told us of the Martha’s Vineyard Cabernet which was maturing in barrels for the first vintage, and conducted a special tasting for us of his favourite wines. Those Martha’s Vineyard designated wines later became the first to break various barriers in terms of high prices for wine from California. A bottle we bought at the end of our visit was served masked to a wine connoisseur visiting us eight years later - he guessed it to be a top quality Australian red wine, rated it very highly and was totally surprised when told it was from California.

The trip back to Canada on Interstate 5 through inland California, Oregon and Washington was uneventful other than our driving up the road at Mount Shasta until we were at a higher altitude than anywhere in Australia. 

About five minutes after crossing the border into British Columbia two days later, the clutch on the standard stick-shift Beetle decided it was tired. We limped to the ferry terminal at slow speeds accompanied by much crashing of gears - and after some temporary repairs in January we began the process of replacing that VW with another one. We subsequently bought a new, blue VW station wagon which would serve as our bed, tent and transportation on a memorable cross-Canada/US journey in just six month’s time.