Quer durch Kanada Aug-Sept 2010

On a Great Journey 2010-2012 Part I

Quebec

We have arrived! The luggage was thoroughly searched, our first address in Montreal we have found after a long search and we are looking forward to our upcoming trip.

We are glad that Annie, who we met through couchsurfing.org, allowed us to spend a few nights on her sofa and supported us so well in our first steps through the new city.

In the meantime, we have gathered everything we need for our road trip and are heading west today, the third of September.

Bei Annie am Couchsurfen — Couchsurfing with Annie

Looking for a Car

Our goal is to purchase a car. Our new "favorite" sites: craigslist.ca and kijiji.ca

At every internet opportunity, we flip through these two pages. The car should cost no more than 1500 dollars. Soon we have a slip of paper full of numbers and Simon becomes the telephone operator.

Now it gets hectic. With the Bixis, rented bikes - by the way a great invention, because there are bike stations all around the city and it is pretty cheap - and the metro we travel from car to car. Or would it be better to say: from rust pile to rust pile? (Note that not even one was an Opel!) The cars cost over $1000, but probably don't live much longer... As we learn, this is due to all the snow and salt in Montreal. Wouldn't it be better to buy a car outside the city?

The fifth car is far outside the city. At first it was too far for us - but now it has become an emergency solution. So we start the long way ... With the metro as far as it goes. On foot it would be now "only" about 1.5 h - and we decide for a cab.

Soon it turns out that Wally, the cab driver, is also talented as a salesman and consultant; unfortunately for our car dealer Dan. This car doesn't have that much rust, but it doesn't look great at first glance. Full of cobwebs and the birds have done their best too. A tire has hardly any air ... But what counts in the end is the inside. So Simon sits down in the car and goes for a drive. He is enthusiastic and this completely confuses me! The dealer is extremely nervous and somehow not trustworthy, the impression of the car is not great and besides, it is the most expensive one we have looked at so far. Puzzled, I look at Simon.

Wally immediately starts negotiating the price: "The car doesn't look good. Did you really fix anything on it? Sell it for a thousand dollars!" Dan annoyed: "Of course I fixed it! I'm a mechanic! No way lower than $1200, I've got to make a living somehow!" - "But I'm sure there's still a lot wrong with it! The oil is old, the tire has no air, the windshield has a crack ... Then what else is probably wrong inside!" ... And thus it goes back and forth. Dan's lips are now quivering ... Soon it will tear him apart, I think. Soon he'll be completely freaking out! He's shaking more and more! I would love to lunge at Wally and shut him up. Dan, about to explode - then he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lights one and walks away. Wally grins and I'm completely relieved for the time being.

When Dan comes back a short time later, the nagging continues. Simon and I stand a bit apart and decide to buy. We could reduce the price a little bit. But of course not to 1000. Also Wally has to accept this now. But he can finally get excited with us.

What we need now is the insurance and the registration. Wally warns us not to drive home with the car without insurance. Dan, however, appeases us that this is not a problem. If the police ask us for insurance, we can just say we have it, but we don't have the number with us. Another option would be to drive home with the hazard lights on. Everyone would think we had a car problem and were on the direct way to the mechanic. It would look stupid, but we would definitely get through. And so the next battle begins: Who will convince Simon of his idea? Simon in the middle, the two men on the left and right arguing loudly. Soon I'm no longer listening, I can only see Simon's head turning from left to right and from right to left. Torn back and forth - until it becomes too much for him and he decides on the safe option.

A short time later we are sitting in the cab, exhausted. Wally is chattering away happily. But we did it, we bought a car!

In Terms of Hospitality

"My father has a room for you!" That's fast. No sooner do I reach Jo and ask for help than he surprises us with this news. We are tired. We have been wandering the streets of Montreal all day in constant search of a place to stay and a car. Jo`s message makes our slightly depressed mood dissolve into thin air.

I met him about two years ago on Koh Pangan, a young, upbeat Quebecois. Together we spent a few relaxing days on the island. He was thrilled to learn that we were actually coming to visit him. "Just give him a call. His name is Jean-Pierre."

That same evening, Jean-Pierre picks us up from the metro station and invites us to his magnificent villa in a Montreal suburb for the next few days. We hardly have time to admire the house. We're already back in his car and being driven to an all-you-can-eat restaurant. With a glass of Japanese sake, we are allowed to help ourselves from a huge buffet as often as we like. Or can. Because this is America. And eating is considered a kind of national sport here. We help ourselves to raw, cooked, fried food. White, green, black. We both find sushi delicious, but do we really have to have fried frogs' legs and snails? At least give them a try. When I pull out my wallet with a pregnant belly, Jean-Pierre waves it off and pulls out his credit card. After all, we are his guests.

For fourteen years, Jean-Pierre has lived with his Moroccan partner Benjamin in their self-created house. Through various companies and businesses he has come to a lot of money. JP enjoys constantly circulating it and we are now allowed to taste it. We live in our own apartment in the basement and are spoiled daily. Be it from Jean-Pierre`s chauffeur services, which we need to pick up our new Honda, his help in handling insurance and registration matters or also from Benjamin`s Arabic cooking skills. Their hospitality is simply unbelievable. Almost incorrigible. If we want to take from one, they insist that we take from the other as well.

We get a really guilty conscience and persuade the two of them to leave the kitchen to us for one evening and prepare for the first time our future notorious Äplermakronen with homemade applesauce. The first skeptical looks quickly turn into pleasant smiles. Our "Schwizer Chochi" seems to be delicious. Nevertheless, the two don't miss out and serve a thick fruit tart for dessert. Well, it's Seraina's birthday, so we don't mind.

We start by stocking up on camping paraphernalia in the huge shopping districts. Hard to believe, these shopping malls. From the Canadian Tyre the fishing rod, the Wal-Mart the tent, from Best Buy the car radio.
At home we stow all our things in the car and get ready for our first leg to Mont-Tremblant, two hours away, where we want to meet Jo. We say goodbye to Jean-Pierre and Benjamin as if we had known each other forever, not just for six days. We notice that especially Jean-Pierre enjoyed our company very much, which gives us the feeling that we could also give something in return.
When we finally arrive at Jo's, we are warmly welcomed by him and his roommates Julie and Guillaume. Again we are "at home". Jo immediately prepares his room for us. We are allowed to stay as long as we like.

After settling in, we drive to Mont-Tremblant town, which is an expensive, touristy imitation of a European ski resort. Judging from the kitschy colored houses, I would rather compare it to Disneyland. Later, we are invited by Jo to dinner at the restaurant where his sister Marie works. Like father, like son.

But not only he, but also his two roommates do their best as hosts. We are even allowed to borrow Guillaume's canoe. He helps us to install it on the roof of our car and we drive to the small Lac Mercier. As we row out, a peaceful mood spreads through us. The sun is shining, we are almost alone on the lake, surrounded by forest and hills.

Even back at Jo's, the relaxed atmosphere remains, as if we were family. We will never forget them and hope that if you meet once and twice, you will run into each other a third time.

The History of our beloved Automobile

Our beloved, beautifully black, cute car is speaking up. It makes strange noises. It rattles... Just drive on, or have a look? We decide on the second and Simon crawls around on the ground for the first - and by no means the last - time. The one plate, which should hold the tank up, hangs down loosely. And the second one is long gone. The tank is also hanging at an angle. So I guess, off to the next mechanic.

In the village of Hornepayne, we see a garage with gas station already in the first bend. "Looks like a hobby garage, that's coming along nicely!", I think to myself. The boss listens to our problem and soon explains: "The best mechanic is Bill and he lives right over there! If he doesn't have time, come back and I'll call my mechanic" So on to Bill. We quickly find his house. A kind of haphazard looking guy enlightens us that Bill will be home in about half an hour. We wait a good half hour - or rather several. In the meantime we try to mend the car ourselves with the cord. But Bill is still not there. So our emergency solution comes into play and we drive back to the garage to ruin another mechanic's Sunday off with work. But as soon as we arrive there... Bill drives around the corner. Happy, we drive back to him.

While Bill mends the car, we sit in the parlor and drink coffee with his friend. It is cozy, but very small and as we learn hardly insulated. In the winter they can only heat with the stove in the living room. I freeze immediately at the thought. Icy cold, two meters of snow... and no insulation, no real heating... brrrr.
Bill will be done soon. "The tank was only holding on to some cables. Soon it would have fallen off!" he tells us with a grin. We were lucky again! He doesn't even want money, which of course we don't allow. We chat a bit more. The two seem very pleased. As a farewell, they give me a handful of cigarettes. I can hardly hold them, so many! I'm just flabbergasted. Stuttering and completely bewildered, I thank them both, who are grinning.

The two tension sets on the car hold up well. The car drives and drives, through Yellowstone, Banff and Jasper National Park, over the Rocky Mountains, into a forest - but not out of it.

A rock was a little too big. One tension set gone. The tank slanted again. Since the next village is too far away, we have to drive back. Soon we discover a campground, managed by a couple, Tweazle and Peter. There we want to stay for one night. Simon also immediately inquires about a ramp to somehow patch up the car himself.

But Peter wants to help us and look at the whole thing the very next day. And so it is. For about three hours, Peter lies under the car, fetches chains, cuts wood and screws everything together. He fiddles and groans over and over. Yes, lying under the car is not the most comfortable thing. Simon and I just look at each other and shrug our shoulders with an uneasy feeling. Peter should actually be doing a lot of other things, since the two of them are flying to England tomorrow for three weeks. And now we come along with our car, in which he invests all his scarce time. How can we ever make up for that? Talking to us, Peter finds out that the exhaust sounds quite loud. Now we could really slap ourselves. Because Peter, of course, immediately sets to work to fix this problem as well.

The car is whole again and we beg to be able to do something for him as well. „I must go and ask my wife“Peter answers and trudges happily towards the house. So we spend the afternoon washing the car and preparing wood for the winter, which - hard to believe - is real fun.

From the Grassland and the Yellow Stone

We haven't been on the road long and we've already crossed the great province of Ontario, leaving the countless lakes, forests and Lake Superior behind us.
In Manitoba, the cow country, the grain fields, the prairies begin. Heavy rain showers pushed us along so fast. The 30 degrees in Montreal are long forgotten. Again and again the sun has tried to reconcile us, but just not vehemently enough.

Therefore, we decided to move south ahead of time. To a destination that we marked bold on the map, a highlight of every trip. The Yellowstone National Park.
But we are overwhelmed again before we can even cross the border. The Grasslands National Park, marked on our map as a small green patch at the very bottom of Saskatchewan, is actually yellow, golden land. It is the vastness of the prairie that draws us in, inviting us to stay. The fact that this arid region promises plenty of sunshine shall be just fine with us.
We set up comfortably in a teepee at "The Crossing," a campground on the edge of the park. This makes it even easier to imagine how Indians used to hunt bison here. All that's missing are the smoke signals on the horizon.

The following day we walk off, into the fields and hills, past marmots and antelopes. It is a wonderful day. And it feels good to work and feel your bones and muscles again after days of driving.
Thankfully, we don't encounter any rattlesnakes, which are currently on their way to their hibernation grounds. Unfortunately also not on bisons. Since a couple of years a few hundred animals live in the park again. So I watch them only in my mind, as they graze in the vastness in front of us. With pleasure I would have liked to see them.

Without further ado we cross the border the next morning and enjoy the drive on the dead straight highway through Montana. When towards evening the hills slowly grow into mountains, we know we are almost at our destination. We spend the night on a small campground not far from the entrance gate to the park. Tomorrow we will dive into another world, into a land before our time. Already we think we are in an old Walt Disney cartoon. Rabbits and hamster-sized chipmunks entertain us splendidly. Only Yogi Bear we have not met yet.
Then the time has come. We drive into Yellowstone Park. Along a creek the road climbs, through pine forests, barren mountain landscapes, open swamps and pastures. Again and again white columns of hot steam rise above lakes and springs. We're cruising around on an extremely active volcano whose eruption is long overdue. "Hot," I think aloud. If dinosaurs appear around the next bend now, I wouldn't be at all surprised. I can see them clearly ahead of me. Long necks stretching into trees, horned and armored giant lizards in between. Giants of the prehistoric age.
"There! Do you see them?" We stop immediately, of course, along with other heavily motorized park visitors, still plentiful even at this time of year. No, they're not prehistoric primordial creatures. Pre-colonial, perhaps. They are.

A landscape like an oil painting opens up before us. In the background, a rocky mountain, artfully curved hills, a sky adorned with soft clouds, and in front of it a straw-yellow plain that lies there quiet and empty. Only it is not completely empty. Next to a small tree two bison are resting, not far from them a third one is grazing and another one is standing a bit apart. For a while we just stand there and watch them. Awestruck.
I don't know yet that I will say later, when the traffic jams again, that there must have been some fresh tourists again who discovered such a buffalo at the roadside. Because they are everywhere. A little further on we stop again. Right next to the road is a single animal, a mighty bull. Impressive, this physique! From now on, his name is Raul.

While we stare at him spellbound, Raul comes closer and closer. Seraina gets a little uncomfortable and backs away. Not like another tourist, who probably has to take a quick picture of Raul's pupil. Raul feels violated in his masculinity. He snorts. Just when I think it will come to a clash, she retreats behind her husband.
"Look!" Seraina points to a dog-like, gray-white animal further back, moving through the bush. The zoom lenses of the growing crowd have already swung around, Raul trots away forgotten. I look and marvel. Indeed. A wolf. And we have barely entered the park. A nice start to our visit.
Not only the wildlife is spectacular. The ponds and geysers around Old Faithful, which unflinchingly shoots a fountain into the sky every 90 minutes (in the Visitor Center next door, a clock indicates the respective eruption time), sparkle and shine in beautiful green, turquoise blue, and sulfurous yellow-orange hues. Mystically beautiful.
And the geysers are popular. The "Old Faithful" attracts a colorful bunch of onlookers every hour and a half. There is even a group of people here who call themselves the Geyser-Gazers. They know all the geysers here and also know when they erupt. So at one point I hear a young woman exclaim enthusiastically, "There! Over there, the beehive is erupting. Hurry!" Not a bee far and wide, but a rather mediocre column of water vapor rising from the ground not far from us.

Näher hinschauen, da ist ein Wolf! — Look closer, there's a wolf!

The nights are cold. It's no longer summer, and we oscillate up and down between 1500 and 2500 meters above sea level. But it is enjoyable to lie in the tent and listen to the rutting howls of the deer and elk. Sometimes it's scary, too, when we can't quite place a rustle or brush. However, we never got to see a moose or even a bear. Therefore, we theorized that all the signs from here to Canada warning of bear territory were put up for pure marketing purposes.

Of course, this is not the case. But we are a little disappointed. But A and B squirrels and the many chipmunks are our faithful companions. If they weren't so cute, one would almost feel harassed by them.

The wolf will remain our animal highlight. On a hike we catch a brief glimpse of a bald eagle circling high above. Otherwise, deer and roe deer are the ones we keep encountering. They don't seem to be bothered much by people photographing them day in and day out. And of course bison, which have found one of their last natural refuges here.
There is much more to tell and describe. But to get a real picture of this seemingly untouched world, you have to experience it yourself. The best time to do so is before the volcano shows its true size for the last time.

Raccoons in Vancouver

Worn out from the day in the city and with a cool beer in hand we stroll home. The way back is long, but the bus is too expensive for us.
Finally a bench! Benches somehow magically attract me. And so I sit there and read aloud the book of Tao-Pooh and his friends in my beautiful speak-it-like-it-is English.

Suddenly something darts past in front of us. A large, striped tail. Oh yes... a raccoon, I think to myself and continue reading calmly. Until I jump up as if I've been struck by a blow. A raccoon? A real, live raccoon? My stuffed animal in real life? In Canada? But they're in Australia! And even there, I somehow can't imagine that they really exist. Just like koalas. A raccoon. My favorite animal when I was little. I can't believe my eyes and tell myself that it was probably just a cat - until the thing scurries past again. Not a cat, no! A living plush raccoon!