Purchasing a Car in Canada While On a Tourist Visa

A road trip in North America, sounds fantastic. The tall trees and the wide roads carved through the Canadian Rockies. The trees turning from green, through orange to red, as Fall passes into Winter. The white fields of stretching snow. Viewed from the vantage point of your very own vehicle.

There are other options, of course. Hire a camper, borrow a car, ride a bike - Trans-Canada on a bicycle, anyone? For our family, with the eight of us and all our gear, the best option was to buy a car, and drive across one of the longest countries in the world.

A car is big enough to fit us all in. It gives us options so we can see more places. It has 4WD for driving through mud and snow. It allows us to get to the ferry on Wolfe Island to go shopping.

But there are a few things to be wary of, despite car salesmen, when getting a Car in Canada.

Provinces of Mind

Every car in Canada requires insurance. In British Columbia you purchase insurance and pay for car registration through the one place. In Ontario, you must provide an insurance receipt when registering the car.

Laws vary between the Provinces in Canada. They can vary a lot, in British Columbia I showed my Australian Drivers Licence and registered the car. In Ontario they required me to cancel my Australia licence, be to granted an Ontario licence, to be able to register the car.

It is difficult to find the requirements for registering a vehicle. We didn’t know what they were, or would be. Stumbling through loop-holes taught us about it. So either try and research it, or stumble through the regulations - either way, if you understand that different provinces have different regulations you will be better off than we were.

British Columbia

Our car was obtained in BC. Our Aunty had organised a perfect vehicle for our travels, and despite the looks it is a magnificent steed.

We had winter tires fitted. A service and some important joints fixed and it was ready to be registered.

In British Columbia, the insurance company issues the licence plates, so it is a one stop shop.

No international license. No test. A drivers license, a passport, and address to register the car, and the important papers: payment receipt for the car’s purchase and the transfer papers. Make sure the transfer papers are in order, with the seller’s signature.

You are able to choose how much time to register and insure the car for. 3, 6 or 12 months. It is best to try and register it for the duration of your travels. If you are staying around British Columbia, and not planning to drive across the country, you can choose any period of time and simply renew it when needed.

To renew/extend the registration/insurance, you are required to:

1. Be physically in British Columbia;
2. For the car to be in British Columbia;
3. Have a British Columbia drivers license.

With your car registered, you could take a family trip to Alberta, and see Banff in the Fall. You could explore the mountains and pass back into British Columbia if needed to extend registration and insurance.

We found problems because: we were in another province; Our car was with us; We were not heading back to BC; We didn’t have a British Columbia driver license. It was the perfect storm, and we were unaware.

The insurance company would not renew or extend our insurance. In a panic, we had to find out how to navigate the Ontario car licence system.

Ontario ate my Australian License

Thinking it would be fine to change provinces, and just extend the insurance was my first mistake.

We drove across Canada. It is a long way. We had organised a rental property on Wolfe Island. It was marvellous. While over their our three months of registration ran out. So I called the company, and requested an extension. I didn't have a British Columbia license, and I was not in British Columbia and so we could not renew the insurance, or extend the registration.

The phone operators were matter-of-fact. Not in BC. No BC license. No insurance. No registration.

In a panic I called our [mechanic][http://www.randysislandmechanical.com/]. It was two days before Christmas and the registration payment was just-past due. Randy was too busy and suggested another place on the mainland.

The mechanics took the car between Christmas and New Years, organised the E-Test (Environment Test) and a Safety Test. Both the E-Test and the Safety Test are required before a car can be registered in Ontario.

They did both, between Christmas and New Years. Cost us CAN$800 for a new windshield, fixed rear brakes, a service, and the two tests.

With both of these pieces of paper, and a smile I walked into Service Ontario to register the car. That is when I first found out that I cannot register a car without an Ontario Drivers Licence. What is okay in one provence, is not okay in another.

Drive across town to visit the licensing place - yes, they on other sides of town.

At the licensing place I was told that I could not get an Ontario license without paperwork from Australia explaining my driving history. So I went home distraught, in our roadworthy, but soon-to-be-expired car, and sent off for the licensing information about my Australian driving history.

With three days to spare - the E-Test and Safety test have a motivational date placed on them - the paper arrived. Express posted from home. I took the paper into the licensing place, where they told me “If you want to get the Ontario license, we must take your Australian license, and we’ll send home to cancel it.”

I forfeited my Australian drivers license to get in Ontario drivers license. Considering we were planning on crossing borders, we thought it would be better to go through the hoops, rather than registering the car in a friend’s name, or selling it to use trains to get about.

Bears are Scary, but the Government can take your License

Registering a car in British Columbia is simple. The process is less straight forward in Ontario. Both were worth it for owning a car, and being able to get us all around.

Owning a vehicle comes with all kinds of costs. For me, most of them are unexpected - a breakdown, or replacing bits and pieces. I had never imagined that a cost would involve me cancelling my home license, that I had been tending to since I was 18. I lost a piece of me that day. But I took another step, as I became an international citizen.

Have you had any experience with registering cars in different countries? Were they like this?

A Snapshot in Time

Over time emotions, thoughts, and history seem to blend together. When I think back to places I feel the major emotions first, followed by what I remember from those emotions.

From now on I will be able to remember Our Time on Wolfe Island. The winter we spent with family and friends, waiting for the snow, walking on ice, and hearing tales of winters gone by. That snapshot, those memories, forever etched into our family's history. That time we spent a winter on Wolfe Island.

Gone So Quickly

Five months have gone by so quickly. Some days have been so difficult I have wondered what we were even thinking, travelling around with our family. I wanted to curl up into a tiny ball, and be whisked away back Home. Some days were the opposite, where I wished they would continue for ever.

Leaving Wolfe Island has been a whirlwind of packing, catching up with friends for the last time, and juggling everything else in between. It has been busy, and that is good, because taking a pause to think about what we are leaving would make us all feel sad. We have made a home, surrounded by people we love, in a beautiful part of the world. It is what we were looking for. How many homes can we make around the world?

What Can We Fit into Five Months?

Hearing stories of the deep, dark days of winter as told by Jenn and Tony, David and Carol, Sharon and Elwin, Teilhard and Corane. Each one of them remembering experiences, with a story to tell, and each one of them saying how “strange this winter is”. They gave us a notice of what we could expect.

Spending days looking out of the window, waiting for the snow to fall. Winter came late on Wolfe Island, the first big storm to hit was in February, and the bay didn’t freeze over until late January. A good part of December was waiting for snow, and January we spent listening to stories about snow in other parts of Canada.

Movie nights. A selection of movies from Netflix, or a selection of movies that we haven’t seen and Friends recommend. Either way, it is a great way to spend a winter evening. Popcorn, and somewhere warm inside, good friends and a movie.

Skiing. Late notice, and the Friday before we left (we departed Wolfe Island on a Sunday), we headed for the hills and skied - most of us did, but that is another story. Jenn and Tony took our kids under their wings and taught them to ski, something we could never have done.

Our American family came and visited for a week before Christmas. We had such a great time with Uncle Thomas and Aunt Sarah.

Square dancing, in an Island Community. With the threat of mutiny, the boys started to dance, and then loved every bit of it. Community and dancing in small halls on the Island. Complicated contra-dancing, fun little square dances. Fiddles sawing, and someone calling the dances. Fun was had by all.

Snow. It snowed hard after our trip up to Quebec City. Over a foot in one day, all of February’s snow in one 24 hour period. Then Jacqui and the boys built a ramp that was used to jump the fence. Tunnels were excavated in the snow, though no-one ventured too far inside. The road was used as a sledding hill.

Spending time with Grammy and Gramps was most excellent. They always made us feel welcome, and always had stories to share, or maps to show us. Stopping in for a short visit meant we didn't leave for three hours, at least.

Time Flies

It passed so quickly. Six months didn't seem to be nearly enough time, in a great spot with great people around us. With friends like these, we never felt too far from home; it felt like we made a home, and that is the difficult part about moving on. We are leaving behind Our Wolfe Island home, and Our Wolfe Island Family.

We utter words like, "When we come back.", or "Next time we're here." to console ourselves. A comfort in the sadness of moving on to the next thing. We are seeking comfort, as the home we have created, with neighbours we love so dear, will be a memory. Good memories, but not daily any more.

We have two things to do before we move on from Canada. The second is seeing Niagara Falls, but the first is spending a night on a farm, with some Wolfe Island friends. A small step away from the Island, and a perfect way to move on.

As as the wind turbines on Wolfe island drift behind us, and we return to mainland Canada, it starts to sink in that we are leaving. The last ferry ride, we are talking about how goodbyes are difficult, funny things that happened, and what we need to pickup on the Mainland when the ferry gets in (some things always never change).

We take a photo as the island slides away. That snapshot not capturing the emotions we feel, and not capturing the memories we created over a winter on Wolfe Island. Those important memories, we’ll hold close to our hearts

"The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with weary feet,

Until it joins some larger way,

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say."

-- J R R Tolkien

Empty, Trudging and Unthinking

It has been snowing, lots. Since 7am this morning we have had more than a foot of snow. The sky is a flat grey and white flakes fall from the sky, I have lost my depth perception because everything seems so flat and yet alive. It is a strange land.

I feel stuck - stuck in my mind and stuck inside the house, like a dog at the window whining to go outside. It is time for a walk. I enjoy walking, it is how I think and unthink: a form of meditation. Walking and talking, and leaving behind those things that have blanketed over my mind, and there has been a lot on my mind lately.

Ezra, the boys' friend is over for the afternoon, and they have chosen to shovel the drive way - entertainment in Canada is cheap with boys in their first winter. I had made a kind request this morning, “After school, can you boys please shovel the driveway?”

Levi smiled, “Sure. If our neighbour doesn’t come and blow it out first.”

There is always hope, when you have been asked to shovel a driveway, that a man with a snow-blower will come past. But today, hope was delayed long enough for them to clean out our driveway. You should ask the boys about shovelling sometime, we have a long drive way. They have been out here for over an hour.

I appreciate the hard work they have put in, moving the snow from the driveway, as getting to the road was easy, didn’t even slip over (which has happened on more than one occasion). The road is covered in snow, a foot deep and the snow plow had been at our end of the island this morning. Light and fluffy snow, a foot deep. Step and sink. Step and sink. Step and sink.

I am halfway down our road, heading for the main road, before I start wondering if this was a good idea. A walk, under grey skies, with snow falling - hard. My legs ache, my back is feeling the past few days of cross-country skiing.

Step and sink. “Was this a good idea? I feel stupid.”

Step and sink. “I need a walk. I am not giving up right now. Just to the main road.”

The road goes up a slight hill. I am breathing hard, legs ache from my short and difficult steps. Deer look up at me, and flee from the brambles, dancing across the road and over a fallen fence. Snow is drifting into pretty, white piles on the bare branches.

It feels like so much work that at the top of the hill I stop to catch my breath. I am not turning back. I need this walk. Step and sink. Step and sink.

A little thought drifts into my mind, and I grab hold of it. Explore the thought, understand the weight. “This feels a lot like how life has been for the past three months. Our voyage started under clear skies, but now it feels to be in danger of sinking. Step and sink. No matter which pathway seems open, it is covered with foot-deep, soft snow.”

Upon the Open Road

We started travelling as a way to expand our horizons. To see different countries. To show our children that the world is larger than watching things on television. People live differently, and we are unique and individual, but also part of a greater race of humans. Life is different and the same.

We started by planning a trip to Canada, because of family and friends. We thought the best way to start seeing the world was to begin where family lives. To see where our Aunty lives. To try a winter where it snows. To live on an island, where a ferry is the only way to the mainland. We did, and it is different to living at home.

Work. Not that kind of Work

We left with work things falling apart. A six month contract that was “in the bag” was cancelled. I signed a new contract, and due to things outside our control the work has been slow. Everything is slow, and when things are slow I get worried, without work there is no money coming in.

What was expected is not what is happening. Of course. Who would have thought?

To the best extent possible I have been trying to change the work situation. Looking for something to come up, pushing and knocking on the doors of possibilities. Calling out and yelling. Waiting for some kind of repsonse to the question of “What the hell am I meant to do, now?”

I didn’t expect this to be easy. But I didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Job applications have been rejected with no explanation. Job applications that have been considered have been rejected because someone else has been found, either better, with more skills or closer proximity. I am looking for a life-line and getting rejected. Somewhere inside, it is hurting. Somewhere.

Step and sink. Get up in the morning and do it again. Step and sink.

Work has never been predictable. I have enjoyed the ability to select some great jobs, to work alongside some great clients, and to build some great things. It feels like the ship is sinking, and I am grabbing at anything that could make the situation better - and everything is sinking too.

We left on our voyage under clear skies, not a cloud in the sky. We met friends and family along the way, and enjoyed every part of our journey. In three weeks we move on to the United States, and see my brother - that makes my heart feel lighter. As the road opened up before us, we enjoyed fellowship and good travel.

Time has gone on and our voyage has changed. The blue skies have clouded over, replaced by the dark-grey of an impending storm. I do not need the skies to be clear, but our ship must not sink from below us.

And So, I Walk

My walk is usually around 5kms, a long enough time to think and unthink. The long-stretch is along the highway, about half-way around the block. Today, after trudging through the snow, and finding the main road I enjoy an easy walk until the long-stretch. The wind gets stronger, pushing freezing rain into my face. Ice grows on my beard, and rain stings my eyes when I try and look up the road. I am not stepping into foot-deep snow, but I cannot walk forward.

I turn around.

Is this giving up? Is turning around because of freezing rain counted as giving up?

Another thought drifts through my mind. “This walk has turned into a metaphor. How ironic.” Can a walk be a metaphor? Or is it ironic?

I Hold Out Hope

I have a feeling that making a change this big, to become a nomadic family for a time, means that there is a risk - maybe a guarantee - that the boat will feel like it is sinking for a time. How we negotiate these waters, and if we can do enough to keep the ship afloat, will determine if we can keep going.

We took a gamble, made a big change, and so far I have been bailing water. Looking for something to grab onto. Three months. Step and sink. I am feeling tired.

But, I have hope. We have a bit of time before the money runs out to figure something out. I feel like all this work is not for naught, and someday it could be a story for the grandchildren. Someday, we could look back on the dark skies, and bailing water, and think “It was all worth it.”

Our choice to make a big change could also fail and fall. Collapse and sink. We spend a winter with friends and family. During which, I spend three months worrying about the future all for nothing. Then we head back to our little corner of the world.

And if that is the worst that could happen, it would not be terrible. Heading back to friends and family, to comfort and normality is not a bad thing. My heart has drifted back home many times in the past few months.

I am Determined, but Becoming Less Inclined to be Determined

I am determined to make this work. Something has to happen. We made a change, and now it is time for the change to become a reality. Hope springs eternal, but reality feels more crushing.

By the time I make it back to our road - the road with a foot of snow - the ice rain has turned back into flakes, and the road has been plowed. My walk was not like I had planned, it was different, and that is okay.

There is always hope. Even if that hope is embracing something I do not want to happen.

Up, Up and Away

Dear Adventurous Reader,

I am new to the mountains. They have been in my dreams, set upon the horizon which I have not been able to chase. The thought of being within the peaks of a tall mountain range has been calling to me for years, and this journey through Canada will take us through some of the most memorable mountains we have seen.

We have been through the Australian mountains at Kosiosko, and it was fantastic, and we flew over the mountains in New Zealand, and I wish we could have spent more time there. But, the Canadian Rockies, and a few days with our drive heading east, this should be fantastic.

Camping

Banff. A skiing village in the mountains. With Germanic facades, one way streets and deer that feed in nice, clean garden beds along the street. An unexpected village, filled with unexpected things.

We came into the town, after finding the Lake Louise camping ground had closed for the winter. Dusk has passed into night, stomachs are growling, and no motel has any rooms in our price range. "Try Tunnel Mountain." A concierge suggests as we are leaving a run-down motel. I dislike the idea of camping when there could be a room somewhere, so I ask Jacqui to check out one last motel, just to see the prices... $240 per room (plus tax).

We went to Tunnel Mountain Campground.

Setting up tents in the dark is difficult. Setting up tents in the dark, while discussing bears visiting during the night, well... that scares half of the workforce. With Elijah helping out, suggesting to "biff-up" all the bears, and Joash finding his way between tasks and hiding in the car, we do manage to set up our tent.

The older boys have a good go at whinging about the "hard ground, to which my motivational suggestions include: "If the ground has you defeated you'll have a flat tent for the night...”, or "Maybe if you keep complaining the ground will get weaker...”

Once our tent was up, and I hold onto the superior ground of beating, three whinging boys to set up a tent, in the dark, I went to help them out. The ground was more difficult where they were, and Nathanael returns from finding a rock to beat the pegs into the ground. “See, you can solve your own problems.” I prompt, he smiles and knocks the pegs into the hard ground. They got the job done.

We retreat into our thin tents, with thoughts of bears exploring our camp ground. We had done everything to stop them coming into our tents, didn’t we?

The Morning

Waking up in the morning, the air is freezing cold, the tent has ice lining the inner walls, and when I breath out I see breath-vapor rising. We slept in a bag, with clothes and a (toque)[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toque#Canadian] (that is a Canada Beanie) and it was still cold.

Outside everything is still, quiet. I love stepping outside to survey the land, after arriving when it is dark. Everything is new, and unexpected, compared to my guesses in the dark. In the pale, morning light I can see the many camping areas, with people waking. A couple of dogs are close by and Ezekiel mistakes the growl in the night for a bear, which starts the “bear finding” discussion again. A couple slept in their car, because the cheap tent they had purchased broke when they were setting it up, in the dark.

The stove comes out, time for a coffee to warm up. Slowly, everyone crawls from the tents to join me at the picnic table, and before I know it hot chocolates are on order. Then my milk is all gone - I had become excited by the idea of milk in my coffee, last night when buying milk - before I get to coffee. At least I had coffee, but my hopes of milk were shattered.

Lake Louise and Hot Springs

Lake Louise stretches, with her flat blue surface between high peaks. Not a wave is blown across the water, only canoes make their way from rocky shore to rocky shore. The aqua-blue is magnificent, the ripples the only thing stopping the reflection of the mountains in the water. Snow covered mountain tops jut against the blue sky, with barely a cloud in it.

Just behind a gap, where it looks like a mountain would flow into another in a small glimpse of the receding Mount Temple glacier. The solid block of snow hadn’t moved during the summer months. The cold of the morning has vanished, and the sun is bright and warm. The kids grab what stones they can find and throw them into the glass-like lake, and we sit on the rocks, allowing the many tourists behind us take photos.

For the afternoon we bypass sightseeing to find the hot springs, back in Banff. We drive up out of the village, Cold mountain air, juxtaposed with the hot, hot water. An afternoon of sitting in hot water, while the steam inches from the surface, and drifts into the air. An afternoon of comfort, while looking at the mountains and the snow.

The children, disregarding the relaxing setting, begin to climb out of the pool, and leap into it, much to the frowns and scowls of the adults in the pool. Adeline finds it delightful, a cunning grin as she looks down, and in she goes; jumping a little, but mostly falling into the water. A splutter as she surfaces, and right back to the ladder.

Trying to stop her only causes her to move to another location. Then, a cunning grin and another jump.

The day grows longer, the light starts to fail, and the mountains become more blue, with alternating streaks of orange of the setting sun. Getting out of the pool is difficult, the cold air wraps around us, and encourages us to go back, into the warmth. So, like a carrot to a donkey, we suggest hamburgers at Eddie’s Burger Bar. We were ready to go super fast.

Sulfur Mountain

Up. Way up. The view is spectacular. We are surrounded by tall, snow covered peaks. Surrounded by more mountains. Trees climb up and up, until the white begins, a line of snow starting where the trees stop, and then it is white until the start of the sky, a beautiful, blue backdrop.

We have taken a gondola ride up to (Sulfur Mountain)[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sulphur_Mountain_%28Alberta%29]. The gondola is smooth, rocking gently as we are taken to the top, Elijah is excited, peering from the glass and wondering how far up we are.

We walk around the improvements going on at the restaurant, and find the pathway that takes us up to the Meteorological Observatory over on Sanson Peak. The pathway has been raised and is on boards, or metal grates, which keep us from the snow.

Snow. Real, soft snow. Our children are all excited, running from pile to pile, of white patches of snow that had recently fallen, taking handfuls to either throw or eat. Once we get to Sanson Peak they are not looking at the view, instead they reach through the fence to find more snow. Zeke builds a snow-man. Adeline grabs hands of snow and stuffs it into her mouth. Elijah gets a clever shot at Nathanael who didn’t expect to get hit by a snow ball.

Me? I look around at the view. Up here everything looks marvellous: the distances are vast; the peaks seem to be at your eye level; the town of Banff is small and the cars are insignificant.

It is a different perspective. The town of Banff is not a confusing layout of streets, filled with tourists, it is an insignificant town, nestled in between the mountains crafted by a skilled architect, with an eye for beauty and hands that crafted time itself. Majesty is in the mountains, beheld at every peak, and stretched between the shapely horizon. What lays behind, in the distance, has been obscured by the beauty and fantasy of what lays before our eyes.

They stopped our progress, with their cruel and unpredictable ways. They hindered our exploration of lands beyond our own. They stand, immovable, and yet they mock our frail bodies with they glory.

Time to go. Along the pathway, coaxing Adeline to keep moving, rather than sampling the snow. Back to the gondola, where Levi asks what would happen if the cable breaks, and I try to explain as slow as possible to allow us chance to get back onto the ground. It feels a little too real explaining what would happen, while the gondola rocks in the wind.

It is time to move onward. The east is calling our name. Friends and family, time to head towards home for the winter. Time to leave the mountains.

I look back toward the summit, which I can no longer see - the mountain is too tall. From the bottom looking up, now I know I am missing out on something - the special view, that the gondola took us to, has vanished. I know the secret that the summit has, I remember that view that stretches for miles in every direction. I look around and feel flat, as if adventure had grown grand, and then become normal again.

Driving, Vomit and Lies

Dear Adventerous Reader,

Hells Gate is a 150 metre descent from the top house to the bottom. A gondola ride that would be hell on a windy day. The cliffs are steep, sharp angles of stone separating the large clusters of tall trees. And it goes up and up, until the clouds obscure the view, twirling against the craggy peaks.

The water down below is murky and brown. Twisting and turning in huge circles, a vortex where the rocks force the water against itself. There are Fish Gates along the side of the river, built into the rock walls, where a landslide had made it difficult for salmon to move upstream.

The river is rushing fast past the rocks and there is no snow melt. After winter the river is much deeper, and runs faster. The sound, from the bridge above the water, is deafening.

The boys have gone off to pan for gold, and Adeline follows (of course), to return wet. She runs back to meet her boys, only to slip on the wooden pathway - all is fine, and she stands and runs over to the water to play with her boys.

I have never taste-tested bad fudge, ever. The companies making fudge and selling it know how much of a percentage game they play. At the bottom of Hells Gate there is a fudge-store, I do not know the percentage of tourists that ascend the gondolas with a red bag holding fudge, but we were certainly one of them. “Been to the fudge shop?” The attendant asked. We nodded, we couldn’t deny it, we had a red bag. “I love it.” He said.

It was great fudge. But, I have never had bad fudge.

Vomit

A tent is such a nice place to be, after a long day, crawling into a sleeping bag, zipping the side up and settling into a warm ball for a nice sleep. Until you hear one of the little ones stir, and give a whimper and ask for a bucket.

Zeke was feeling ill the day we left Chilliwack, something-like gastro had twisted his stomach into knots. We didn’t make it to Hope when he threw up.

That night, in the chill night air of a small camp ground, Joash found himself ill. He threw up seven times through the night, each time making the bucket and I had to make a trip to the bathrooms to ensure we were set for the following time. After Joash had finished Elijah woke with an ill tummy and missed the bucket.

A disgusting sleeping bag was the result. Tent Vomit is my least favourite kind of vomit, although all are bad, that is the worst.

Sneaky, Sneaky

The next day we drove onwards through to Kamloops. This small town will be remembered as The Town We Snuck Children Into Our Hotel Room. Long days drive over tedious hills and into small towns, as we wound around the back roads from Hope to Kamloops. Everyone was tired, and no motels had enough room for us to fit in.

Allow me this place to speak for a little while about why we felt like we had to play sneaky games with a motel.

I am fine with businesses making money. I understand that with a large family, we have to accommodate ourselves to the way they have chosen to make money. A Family Ticket being two adults and two children doesn’t work for us. The word Family is flexible in the real world, but not in ways that most businesses structure payments.

Most motels allows a set number of people in one room. The more people you want, to more you have to pay. I understand this would apply to University students, or a bus load of people arriving late one night. But, surely, a family travelling through a town, for a single night, could sleep a few extra bodies on the floor? You would think…

Instead, they say “We don’t allow this.” Which translates to “The Rules do not allow for it.” or “We are not willing to make changes to accommodate your family.”, or some other variation that makes sense when you live and die by the rules. Or there is some kind of legal rules that the motel has to follow - I would be sure there are government regulations that “rate” a room to a set number of tenants.

The landslide of huge families coming to one motel to sleep all their children must way heavily on their minds.

So, we adjusted the room count by ourselves, filing our baffling number of children into our room. Choosing not to tell the hotel that the $130 a night would sleep our whole family, not the three children we were paying for. The only people who had a problem with it were our children, who couldn’t fathom the lie we were living.

Driving isn’t fun with vomit and lies. We have ventured into the mountains with difficulty. Hopefully we can get to Banff with less problems.

Hope is on the Road Ahead

Dear Adventurous Reader,

We are leaving Vancouver during rush hour. It is not the best of ideas, but we had to collect food and some equipment for our road trip, and it made sense to do that on our day of departure. Shopping on the first day of a long road trip is a hindrance, but due to a busy work schedule in Vancouver it was impossible to do this shopping before. I lament our departure time, as we pull up behind a long line of cars, until we get into the commuters lane and start bypassing all the cars with only a single driver.

Gradually the city is left behind. The tall buildings, the road exits to suburbs and neighboring cities, are all behind us. All that joins us on the journey is the rows and rows of cars. The tallest landmark on our horizon is no longer man made, it is the glacier that is near Mt. Baker, in the United States, and it beckons us to adventure. We are driving across Canada - though we left a little later than planned.

As we get closer to Abbotsford we are stopped behind lines and lines of traffic. A city-themed traffic jam stretches before us, and the sun shines upon our car making us feel hot. We have left Vancouver, we have not traveled as far as we wanted to, and we are stuck in traffic. Time to give up on making progress, and find a place to camp.

A small town of Chilliwack has a camp ground close to a low-running river. It smells like dead fish, but the view is very pretty, with the trees lining the mountain behind us. We have Campers Spaghetti for dinner, made beside the river. Eating beside the river sounded like a good idea, so we moved the food over to cook, then we smelt the river and looked upon the carcasses of dead fish but were not bothered enough to move away.

We wake in the morning and pack up. It is cold, and the overnight has caused condensation on the inside of the tents. Jacqui is making room in our trunk for full bags, food, and tents, the boys and I allow the tents to dry in the sun. We get into the car for a long drive, and discover the engine light is glowing. Fantastic.

Words of Uncle Josh hit us like a sledge hammer - he has a way with words - “If you see an engine light, stop and get it looked at.” We find a mechanic, then we find a way to burn hours in a small town until a spot opens up for the car to be looked at.

Thinking Aboot Lemons

I spend the next few hours thinking about the car we have purchased. We wanted a car that would get us across Canada and to get us about during winter. A car that could take us southward towards North Carolina, and keep us dry and warm. I am not sure if this fits the bill, not yet - I think we found a lemon. A big, hulking massive lemon. With rusted sills and underbelly, rolling suspension and an uncertain amount of issues that appear when we have only just started our long journey across Canada.

We didn’t feel like we had much of a choice with cars. We wanted a car that could fit us all in (eight seats and all our luggage), a car that could drive long distances, a car that could fight through a winter storm, and after all of that, come out the other side. A Suburban sounded excellent, on all accounts, except it is American, with a reputation for being a bit average.

The car we purchased found us. We had a look around, but this was the car with the puppy-dog-eyes that we couldn’t say no to. Historically, for us, these are the cars we buy and they have not let us down. This small issue of an engine light is not counted as “letting us down”, but it doesn’t build much trust.

We talk to our friends who own Suburbans, they all tell us that the engine light comes on “All the Time”, but it just keeps on driving. Again, sounds great, just not building much trust. American Engineering - maybe it is just the car telling us that the engine is running?

Hope is on the Road Ahead

The mechanic finds nothing wrong that will hinder our journey. The light comes on because of an oxygen sensor near the catalytic converter. He noticed a few things wrong with the underneath, which he fixes, and we are back underway again - at 5:30pm.

We drive on to the next town, so that we have made some kind of forward progress. Always forward, when the journey is so long. The next town is called Hope, and with a name like that, we take it as a sign of things to come.

Exploring Bowen Island

The Ferries come and go at the Horseshoe Bay Marina, so it would be silly to miss a trip on a ferry to see a near-by island.

Exploring Vancouver Aquarium

In Stanley Park is the Vancouver Aquarium. A visit, and explore, was in order.

Exploring Lynn Canyon

Lynn Canyon is close to the town, with one super cool suspension bridge.

Exploring Whytecliff Park

Whytecliff Park is in West Vancouver, a long walk from Aunty Margot's. We explored.

Exploring with Cousin Jesse

There were happy trails with cousin Jesse, where we explored the forest behind Horseshoe Bay.

Family, Fun, Vancouver

Aunty Margot lives in Horseshoe Bay. She lives, with her son Jesse, in a small, two room apartment that overlooks the comings and goings of the ferries at the terminal below. It is a picturesque scene, with the hills climbing up and around in a bowl that encircle the town on every side, except where it opens into the marina and out into Howe Sound.

For some crazy reason, Aunty Margot has allowed us to stay with her, in her apartment, for two weeks after we arrive in Canada. We exit the limo that brought us from the airport and carry our bags up the long street, stopping when the weight becomes too heavy to lift. The walk feels like eternity after a long flight, customs and figuring out how to get to Horseshoe Bay.

Down the back stairs and inside, where we are greeted by Jesse - a tall man, with a slim figure and a Canadian Chin. He smiles and invites us in, as we allow the awkward greetings to pass between us all, until the stories begin and we find our family connection. Not too long after Christina arrives after school, and hugs are exchanged with more stories that again draw us back together.

It is amazing how distance can’t break the bond of Family. Family is more than skin deep, it runs in the blood. After a few stories we were comfortable, and hanging out like old times (the “old times” were from a few years ago when Margot travelled with Christina and Jesse over to Australia).

Margot came home from work and it was a party all over again. The sun set behind the hills, shining a dim light on the bay below while we ate dinner, sitting in chairs, watching the ferries in the bay below, and telling stories about our travels and the day that each of us had.

Injuries

The first adventure down to Horseshoe Bay begun with Adeline falling head first onto small stones, and cutting an indent into her forehead, she made herself bleed. The deep cut was clean, no stones were embedded in her head, and she didn’t put up too much of a fuss after the band-aid went over it.

A few days later the boys were off adventuring in the woods, and Someone flicked a wasp away that was bothering them. Being close to a hive, and agitating a wasp is a bad idea - the wasp will call the others into the fray. The wasps in the hive got mad and set off in pursuit of their attackers, five Australian boys who had never seen a hive of angry wasps. Panicked, yelling and screaming they run back to the house, and right inside with mad wasps climbing on their hair and clothes.

Elijah was left behind in the panic, and got stung on his head twice. Nathanael gained the runners up prize, getting a sting on a knuckle. We killed 9 wasps inside the house, it could have been worse. Next time they will have to stay outside, so not to bring the wasps inside to share with everyone else.

Jesse came to the rescue, bringing vinegar to calm the stings, and a smile to say that it was perfectly normal to be set upon by wasps - the key is not to agitate them in the first place. He also had a few stories about times he had been walking in the woods and got stung too. Before long all became calm again, and Elijah started to feel a little better.

Up to Whistler

The trees are tall, and thin, covered with green. Green, green and more green. There is more green than I have seen in such a long time. The trees are green, the grass is green. We drive on through the scenery that doesn’t stop changing, Howe Sound, the islands, the cliffs of Squamish, and the long roads that wind up to Whistler.

There is no snow. There is green, and there is mountains. Off in the distance is a glacier. A glacier - you will have to forgive me for being so excited about seeing a mass of ice on top of a mountain, I am new to this whole “mountains, snow and frozen thing”…

The road is wide, and we take the gentle curves around the mountain as we head toward Whistler. There is no snow on the road, only long stretches of grey that is nestled between the tall trees of green. It is a beautiful drive from Squamish, and the boys had taken the opportunity to stop yelling at each other for a while, and to look around outside.

We finally find a car park, it is busy and look around to see women covered in mud, running up the mountain side. Mudderella is either getting started or finishing up in the car park at Blackcomb. We find a gondola and ride down to the town of Whistler. Mountains bikes and dirt covered riders descend the mountains, then wait for the ski lifts to take them back to the top to do it again. The boys all ask if we can hire bikes, so we let them investigate and on hearing the prices they decide, instead, to save their money.

The mountains stretch further and further up into the clear blue that stretches over us. The green and brown trees line steep mountains, which are separated by long stretches of grass that will become ski runs in the winter. The autumnal sun streams from the clear sky, casting a warm yellow glow over everything, a gentle breeze passes between the shops and pubs, all filled with people.

We walk the streets, past the expensive stores, along the pavement that is soon to be covered in snow. Here, with nothing to do but walk, we have found a wonderful place to window shop, and to soak in the atmosphere of a town buzzing with activity. Relax, chilled out on such a beautiful day, it is easy to see why so many people are here.

The playground gets huge points, if you are in the area with kids, we could have spent longer playing there…

Family

This was not all that we did in Vancouver. The most memorable for us was spending time with our aunty and cousins - our family. The older boys went hiking with Jesse, hunting for mushrooms in the forests that grow around the village. We all were invited to a school fate, where we spent tickets in exchange for fun things to do, or eat. We sat on the kitchen floor, talking into the night as long as our tired bodies would allow.

We allowed the business of the day to be reduced to words in each-others ears, sharing tales of adventures (past and present), sharing jokes and sharing our lives together. It was a little tight in the small apartment, but that made it more memorable, and we enjoyed the benefits of spending such a rich time with family.

From Australia, to New Zealand and on to Canada we have been welcomed into the home of family, and made to feel like part of the clockwork that continues on around us. The “ties that bind”, the blood in our veins. Family, all over the globe.

Exploring Horseshoe Bay

We explored Horseshoe Bay, where Aunty Margot lives, to see what the village had to offer.

Scenic Railway to Kuranda

Dear Adventurous Reader,

An old railway runs from Cairns up into the mountains beyond. A railway constructed by the labor of many men, facing hardship and death everyday. Today we took the easy path and paid money for the train ride to the small town of Kuranda.

We love trains and railways. All of us like old railways with a story to tell, especially one of hard work, of toil and men of the past shaping a peaceful path through a treacherous mountain. Before the steam engine could make the journey, men went before to forge the path. Pick axes and dynamite used to blast and hack their way through the difficult terrain.

Today engineering is a different feat, we have made it easier for ourselves. In the days of old paths were created on the sweat and shoulders of people who would dare to prove what seemed impassable was not.

There are 15 tunnels hewn from the mountain side, the longest 490 meters. There are many bridges spanning gaps small to large. One bridge is built on one of the two switch backs where you can see the engines pulling up front and the last carriage following behind.

The train slows down on one switchback as it passes a large waterfall. People move from one side of the train to the other, making sure to take a photo or to store an image in their mind. The rain from a few nights ago not going to waste with the magnificent scenery.

The Kuranda Scenic Railway has a video that displays photos at opportune story moments, telling us the tale of the railway's creation. It is neither loud or annoying, often times the children's excited voices drown out the words it speaks to us. It tells tales of wonder and explains magnificent views.

Tourist Town in the Mountains

We pull into Kuranda. The station is surrounded by wonderful green trees and large flowers. There are some steps leading toward the town which we follow.

Kuranda reminds us if Sorento, across the bay from where we live. The prices at the shops also remind is of Sorento. The town seems to run on the tourist dollars that arrive, there are many indigenous, new-age and specialty stores along the street, all catering to the whim of someone looking for a bargain or for a memory.

We walked into the rock candy store, just standing inside that place made your teeth start to decay. There were so many colours and flavours of rock candy to choose from, with a video to demonstrate how it was made. We put that on the list of places to visit on the journey back towards the train.

We ate a cheap lunch of Nutella on bread. We took a brief stroll though the rainforest before rushing back towards the train for the ride home. We spent more time sitting on the train than wandering the streets of Kuranda, although if we had more time we would have walked the rainforest instead of finding shops to take our money.

Down Again

Back down the mountain, making the slow trip with the train again. The same video played but reversed the explanation points. The boys hopped between seats trying to find the best view as the train slowed at important sections, once again. Adeline had the afternoon sleep she had been fighting since lunch.

Kuranda Scenic Railway was a slow ride through some beautiful scenery. We loved the idea of seeing that part of the world by train, in old style carriages, going slowly up the mountain to see the views of Cairns and the forests below.