If you pass by some scenes without stopping that is a sin. I think this is one of them. Unfortunately, I have forgotten the name of the town. To avoid the taint of sin, we stopped to take a photograph of what at one time was a mill (I believe). There was no longer any sign of the mill but it was a lovely Quebec scene. I could not drive by without taking a photograph. That would have been a sin.
As we were leaving Ottawa, I phoned my brother-in- law for suggestions on how to get through Montreal. He recommended we avoid the 401 at all costs, as it was always jammed with traffic. In Ottawa we got lost and had to rely entirely on our GPS to get us out through Gatineau. He suggested a highway that was “sort of a Perimeter” and would be slightly better. Slightly better than the 401 is all we could get. We encountered what we considered serious traffic jams, but were glad not to experience worse.
After being in a virtual crawl for about an hour we almost missed our exit to get off the freeway. My French navigator woke up just as I was about to go by it, and told me to hurry to the exit because a slow highway tractor was allowing me to dart in. I had to cross a solid line to do that but my navigator was very insistent. As only French navigators can be insistent. Unfortunately, a local traffic constabulary was parked around the curve and immediately engaged in hot pursuit of me. When I stopped the car to take my lesson, the cars that passed honked and hooted with mirth. But then my French navigator proved her worth. She batted her eye lashes at the officer and explained we did not know that was not allowed in Quebec. As a result, the officer let us off with a warning. No ticket.
As a result, we took what we called ‘the River Road.’ It was very interesting. It really was a long line of small towns without breaks almost all the way from Montreal to Quebec City. It was a very slow but very pleasant drive. We were content. There was much to see and we were meandering.
We finally got off the freeway east of Montreal near Trois-Rivières where we got onto the road that followed the St. Lawrence River. We could not make time on this road, but we are not in Quebec to make time.
Time was much too valuable for that. As Jimmy Buffet said, “Time ain’t for savin’, no, time’s not for that.” I would say time I is too important for savin’.
We had a fascinating stop in Wawa in 1967 and then an entirely different one, but just as fascinating, in 2024 for entirely different reasons.
Wawa is considered the Black Hole of Canada. Even in 1967 we heard stories of hitchhikers there getting stuck for days.
When I visited it this autumn, it reminded me of a glorious road trip I had taken with 4 friends in 1967. The infamous trip to Montreal. That was more than 50 years ago. We were all about 17 years old. Sid Barkman, Eugene Reimer, Roy “Rocky” Kehler, Mike Penner, and I had travelled to Montreal to see Expo 67 in Sid’s less than stellar 1957 Chev. We had 3 flat tires the first day. And more after that. We had made a deal with Sid that he would be responsible for the cost of oil and the rest of us would pay for all the gasoline. We thought Sid was getting off easy, as he deserved, since he supplied the vehicle, but it turned out that he probably paid as much for motor oil as we paid for gasoline. We could see black exhaust fuel trailing us most of the way.
I remember that in 1967 Sid had urged the rest of us to climb up onto the back of the Wawa goose and he would take our photograph. The rest of us thought this was stupid and we did not follow instructions. That might have been a big mistake I would love to have that photograph now. Oh, the folly of youth!
That 1967 trip was made just before the end of the summer of 1967. 4 of us had just finished grade 12 and would soon be entering a new life. Eugene had already finished one year of university. He was a worldly traveler compared to the rest of us rubes from the sticks. We all had our dreams and lives in front of us. We were on the precipice of we did not know what. Flying off on the back of a goose would have been a glorious send off. But sadly, we demurred.
We had just learned to drink that summer, even though the legal drinking age was 21. Near Wawa, we stopped at a café for lunch and when the waitress asked us what we wanted to drink, we shyly looked at each other and no one spoke until Rocky, the youngest and shortest and bravest of us, piped up, “I’ll have a cherry brandy.” When the waitress did not bat an eyelash at that, I chimed in, “And I’ll have a martini.” I wanted to be cool and had seen James Bond order that in a movie. At least I didn’t request it to be “Shaken not stirred.” The rest of the lads quickly made similar requests and we were in business.
In Montreal we spent a lot of time in pavilions and bars and ‘rides’ at La Ronde. To us that was high culture. The folly of youth again. Not much culture was absorbed, but we did learn things at those pavilions. Our attempts to attract girls met with little success, as was to be expected of such hayseeds. There were few girls around stupid enough to look at us.
Our time in Montreal was a glorious adventure. Every night we slept in my leaky tent. One night, we visited a night club in the city of Montreal and amazingly met some older and wiser Steinbach boys who looked down on us with bemusement. One of the boys spent his last dollar in Montreal to buy Russian cigarettes and had to beg the rest of us for change to eat on the way home. One phoned the manager of the Credit Union back home to verify to a restauranteur that his cheque for dinner would be good. In Wawa we spent the night. As we left in the morning, the police followed us out of town to make sure we had no ideas of sticking around. The Head of the Chamber of Commerce would not have welcomed a scruffy bunch like us.
It was a trip I am sure none of us will ever forget. That was what it felt like. For us it was one last glorious adventure before we became adults. It actually took. a long time for adulthood to catch us, if it ever did. By the time we were traveling home we were all broke. Virtually all of us were on verge of bankruptcy. Our entire net worth splurged. But what a great cause.
But I still wish we had sailed that Goose in Wawa as Sid had begged. He had the right idea. The rest of us were dullards.
For the past week or two, the Meanderer has been pestered by a serious cyber-attack that has made it impossible to post. Some say these attacks were launched by Vladimir Putin. Others blame Donald Trump and his band of Trumpsters. What is clear is that the attack was caused by enemies of truth and beauty.
I am happy to report that the forces of evil were unable to permanently silence the meanders, despite their best concerted efforts. As I travelled to the USA, the land of liberty, nefarious actors launched an all-out cyber-attack on this Blog. While it is still unclear who is responsible for these hideous actions, it is clear that the goal was to silence the meanderer and all lovers of truth and beauty. Briefly on our annual trip to the southern parts of the US these forces of oppression tried to shut down this blog. They were briefly successful until heroic forces of good managed to shut down the shutdown. I am not sure that all of my earlier posts have been retrieved to the new site that was established, but this voice for freedom and justice has not been stilled, though I know, some will not be pleased by this report.
For security purposes I will for the time being keep confidential the name of the truth warrior who helped rescue the Meanderer. I don’t want to give an unearned advantage to the enemies of truth and beauty.
So I look forward to sharing truth and beauty with you faithful readers in the future. Happy belated New Year 2024.
As a few may have noticed, I have not posted for more than a week and want to assure my faithful readers that I have not been kidnapped by the CIA. Nor have they tried to silence me. Reports of my death have been slightly exaggerated.
I have been off the grid. Sometimes for mechanical reasons, but mainly because of a serious lack of technological savvy. I intend to resume my posts soon. As I have said many times: life is hard when you are stupid.
I have been on a pitifully short meandering jaunt. I intended to go on a longer jaunt, but was cruelly curtailed by higher authorities who had no interest in my blog. When I was summoned I was compelled to oblige. That is what authority is all about. As Shakespeare said, “authority is a dog’s bark obeyed.” And I obeyed.
I expect to post about the short trip soon.
I am happy to report that the most ridiculous war of all time is finally over, after about 50 years of wrangling. And to think they were battling over an absolutely useless uninhabited island without minerals or anything of value.
The war—well diplomatic dispute is really a better world—over an island half way between Canada’s Ellesmere Island and Denmark’s Greenland was waged over Hans Island. The name says it all. Who would fight for control over Hans Island? Canada and Denmark that’s who.
The dispute engaged 26 previous Canadian foreign ministers who had nothing better to do. And they fought at our expense. Canadian and Danish taxpayers paid for the diplomats to tussle.
Now Canada and Denmark took great pride that they settled the border dispute without war. And they bragged that this is what Russia should do too. All of that makes some sense—at least until you look at the facts. The fact is that Hans Island has no value whatsoever. That is why it is named after me. No one wants it or cares about it. Except the Inuit.
In fact both Canada and Denmark are illegitimate colonial powers who have no rightful claim to it. The only people who actually ever used it were Inuit hunters who used Hans Island as a staging platform for hunting. No one lives there. No one else actually uses it.
Over the decades, Denmark and Canada left each other whiskey bottles as a joke after they visited it. Some called it the “friendliest of all wars.” It could just as well have been called the stupidest of all wars.
Thank goodness it’s over. It should be named Tarupaluk, because that is what the Inuit call. They should have it. Neither Canada nor Denmark deserves. It. I renounce my right to have it called Hans Island. It shows only how two colonial powers can settle an absolutely trivial dispute after 50 years of negotiations and threats of legal action. That is an example for the world? Give me a break.
Many people don’t know about this but for decades Canada and Denmark have been “fighting” over a tiny island off the coast of Greenland. Denmark owns Greenland. Donald Trump tried to purchase Greenland but Denmark refused to sell. He should have made an offer for Hans Island instead, but probably did not want to tangle with Canada.
Hans Island is a tiny uninhabited island—no more than a big rock really—in the center of Kennedy Channel of Nares Strait off the coast of Greenland. Like Hans Neufeld the writer of this blog, Hans Island has no apparent natural resources and is essentially worthless. Yet astonishingly there has been a decades long dispute between Canada and Norway over ownership of this tiny island that no one with any sense would want. It has no oil and is located precisely on the agreed border between Canada and Greenland, but sort of by accident this little island was left out of the boundary agreement. The island has no apparent natural resources of mineral, oil or natural gas, but still, there is an ongoing territorial dispute between Denmark and Canada over who owns the half-squared mile of the rock.
This “war” between Denmark and Canada has been one of the most unusual in the history of warfare. For the past 3 decades each country has repeatedly placed a flag on the island claiming ownership and yet welcomes the other country to the island with a bottle of hootch. I kid you not. Canada leaves whiskey and Denmark schnapps. This is exactly how two friendly countries should fight a war and Hans Neufeld is enormously proud of the fact that this is how the battle has been fought over his namesake island.
In 2006 a student got into the act. He was a Carleton University student who announced he had set up the Government of Tartupaluk and declared himself “The Reigning Prince of Tartupaluk.” Since no one inhabits the island there was no one to challenge his claim or oppose it, but his claims sadly seem to have been forgotten. As well recently there were some self-declared “Indigenous” Hans Islanders, called Hans who claimed ownership. These people said they wanted other to come to live on the unpopulated island. I wish I had been consulted by these two Hans as I would like to have a chance to put forward my case for this island. I could be “President for life of Hans Island.” Or perhaps I could be Emperor of Hans Island.
Recently I heard the two countries have agreed to share jurisdiction over the island. I don’t know what it means, but I guess this means war has been averted. It could easily have led to World War III so that is a very good thing. History would have been very different if world wars had been fought like this. I say, let ‘Let Hans show the way.’
This is particularly important on September 11 20 years after 9/11 which led to the longest war in American history for no apparent purpose. There is a better way. Hans Island proves it.
Frankly, old guys, like should not have too much excitement anymore You never know what will happen. Last night in the storm we had some real excitement. We were sitting quietly at home last night meeting with friends on Zoom. The only way we can meet these days. We noticed the rain and wind pick up. The wind felt like a tornado. Then briefly this incredibly huge tree that had been in our backyards for decades caught the wind and crashed down. A tiny box of flowers remained on the outdoor table unimpressed, but this giant succumbed to the forces of nature. How the mighty can fall. .
I say it crashed down but we never even heard it. We were extremely grateful that it very narrowly missed our house, just nicking the corner of our garage roof and gutters. This was about the only place this tree could come down on our lot without causing major damage. Had it crashed into the house it might even have harmed us. Too close for comfort.
Like Paul Simon said “It was the time of miracle and wonder.”
Some of you may have been alarmed yesterday when you tried to access my blog and found it was shut down. Some of you may have thought that the government has shut me down for instigating terrorist acts. I am not on the no-fly list, at least to the best of my belief. None of that is true! I am not like Tobia Tissen the local pastor of the Church of God Restoration who has gone into hiding to avoid being served with an arrest warranty.
I am happy to be back in the business of blogging again free from interference from the forces of darkness. Reports of my death have also been slightly exaggerated.
When I tried to access my blog yesterday I could not access it. I assumed of course that Canada’s security forces, or perhaps the CIA, or perhaps the forces of darkness want to shut me down. Also not true.
It was negligence on my part in failing to renew my license. Nothing more sinister than that. Freedom lives.
Start the revolution without me.