This is an FYI for anyone interested – do not feel obligated. But just to let you know I have finally uploaded all of last year’s blog – my first year with the RV.

It covers the purchase, my maiden voyage, the ups & downs of newbie-RVing, and, for those of you who have asked, The Great Urine Incident of 2025.

You can scroll back if interested.

Did you know Norman Bethune was born in Gravenhurst?  I didn’t.  Did you know Gravenhurst has a main street? I didn’t.

I have been to Gravenhurst many, many times, most recently staying with my cousins at Taboo resort.  Other visits included a bizarre weekend spent at my then manager’s cottage – now that is a story worth retelling, but I have spent the last 17 years trying to blot that period of my work life from my memory (horrible woman), so we shall move on – plus a wedding on the Seguin boat, and sightseeing visits every couple of summers.  For each of those visits, I never got past the Gravenhurst Wharf, so I thought that was the sum total of the town.  But it turns out that no, Gravenhorst has a bustling main street with shops, boutiques, and cafés. Who knew?  Well, presumably the locals.

We stayed in the parking lot of the Sawdust Brewery – what a terrific HH site!  The place closes at 9pm, it’s in the middle of a quiet residential neighbourhood, and the food is excellent – I strongly recommend you check it out.

And just around the corner was a large Parks Canada building, with a lot of Chinese signage – it was the Norman Bethune museum, attached to his birth home.  What an impressive museum – well worth the visit.

We also caught up with RV friends of BN & LL, who live in the condos at Taboo.  They brought us up to date on all the local scuttlebutt.

A great two-day visit, and I learned stuff, too.

About to get a tad judgy and critical here.  Yesterday evening a young family (Mum, Dad, Toddler, and Grandma) set up across the way from us.  Just before 7pm Dad started a fire in the fire pit.  Well, that’s not quite accurate. He attempted to start a fire.  The campground warning signs indicate that the locale is dry, with a Moderate chance of brush fire, the bundle of wood he picked up from the shop would have been bone dry, he had tons of newspaper, and the campsite’s firepit has a low metal ring with air holes around it.

Easy, right?  Crunch some newspaper, set on some kindling, arrange three or four split logs in a criss-cross or tent shape, and light a match.

From our dining table we could see this all playing out.  At first the lack of flame and smouldering was just mildly amusing.  But after watching him futz and fuss for hours (yes, I say hours) straight, generating nothing more than smoke (most of which seemed to go straight into Grandma’s face – his MIL, perhaps?), it became truly painful to watch.

Now I’m no Bear Grylls or Grizzly Adams, but even I, a city dweller my entire life, understand the basics of a campfire – the need for oxygen, the need for patience, the need for structure.  I know it sounds like I’m droning on about this poor guy and picking on him, but I mean really, the photo below was taken over two hours after he had started the fire, and this was it at its peak.

They should offer lessons, or pamphlets showing the best fire layout. 

People are different. And that’s a good thing.  My sister has a friend from school whose career was that of high school English teacher and whose hobby is metal working.  He makes the most amazing swords, blades, and decorations.  He made my sister a metal penguin for her garden and she commissioned him to make me a giant hedgehog.  Granted, she hadn’t expected it to have 80 2” cast iron spikes on its back – we named it the Hedgehog of Death and until recently, the Hedgehog of Death has lived where he could not impale or blind anyone.  Now that Scout is gone, it has a place of honour under the pear tree in my back yard.

But the high school teacher whose work we saw yesterday takes unusual hobbies to a whole new level – if ever you are driving north on the 11 and have an hour (or more) to spare, you must check out the Screaming Heads of Burk’s Falls.

A massive field (well, fields, really) of metal geodesic domes, carved stone buildings, concrete animals & hands, and acres & acres of concrete screaming heads.  Don’t miss it.

So far on this trip I’ve booked the Chi Cheemaun Ferry for the wrong day, told BN our trip was ending on the wrong day, confused the towns of Sundridge & Katrine when planning sightseeing, and spent the last three days convinced we were spending tonight at a full-amenities campsite.  Wait, not so fast on that last one, Lainey.

We have Environment Canada warning us of an impending heat wave, but not to worry, our Parry Sound KOA has electricity, and we have AC.  Again I say, Wait.

It suddenly popped into my head – we’re not at a KOA. We’re staying in the parking lot of a brewery right in the middle of Parry Sound.  Crap.  Will there be complaints about our generator?  What about our AC? Will we melt in the 26+ degree nighttime heat?

I can’t.  I just can’t do it.  And BN feels the same way.  But, I may well be getting a reputation as the Harvest Host member who keeps cancelling (I refer you to last year’s broken toe and broken generator, both of which caused me to cancel several HH stays).  At each one I cancelled at least 48 hours in advance, but a point comes where that many cancellations could count against you.  But it’s hot. Really hot.  So we formed a cunning plan – a plan so cunning you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel (IYKYK).

Step One: I quickly booked us in last minute at the local KOA.  Step Two: we headed over to the HH brewery/pub we are expected to stay at.  We identified ourselves to the host, who confirmed our parking spot.  Barb asked when the pub closes (10pm) and re-opens (11am) and then most disingenuously said, “Oh, I hope it’s okay that we come back later than 10pm tonight; we’re visiting friends and will be quite late.”  The host assured us that would be no problem and nodded when I said we’d probably be gone by the time they came to work the following morning.

Now the main reason companies agree to be hosts is so that people will buy their products. Hence Step Three: we picked up a selection of their craft beers and made sure the cashier knew we were Harvest Hosting. 
Step Four: we toddled off (purportedly to visit our ‘friends’) to the full-amenities KOA, set up camp, turned on the AC, and popped a bottle of sparkling wine.

And finally, Step Five: to fully reinforce our deception, I have just left a glowing review of the brewery on HH’s website, confirming that we appreciated that we were allowed to return late at night to the parking spot and take off first thing in the morning.  (Technically these are not outright lies; everything I said was true. And the main thing is: the brewery got our business and a 5-star review, I kept my HH guest status intact, and we slept comfortably through the night. So sue me.)

After a delightfully tranquil day at the KOA in Sturgeon Falls, it was time to move on.  BN packed up inside; I unhooked the outside and slid in the slide outs.  Then I did what I always do, I picked up my Leaving Check List and went from the back of the RV to the front, checking off each item as I went.

We pulled out of the site and slowly drove out of the campground.  Something sounded a tad odd, but I feel that way most days when I first start driving.  BN heard a different noise and then out of my window I saw a man (which his shorts only half done up, I might add) haring along behind us, waving frantically.

I rolled down the window and he pantingly gasped, “Your awning is out.” OMFG.

So much for the checklist. It was bound to happen. But it will not happen again.

As I said, I did not want to leave the campground on Saturday; I just wanted to hunker down, re-group, and chill. But I did have one task I wanted to complete (I guess it falls in the ‘re-group’ category): I wanted to re-organise cupboards, shelves, and storage compartments. Everything had been loaded in higgledy-piggeldy when Barb & I took off last Saturday morning, and we’ve been scrambling to find things all week.

So we started the morning with a bang: I tore apart the pantry, the closet, and the bathroom cabinet, and BN dusted, swept, and scrubbed the floors. All that and a load of laundry, and two hours later we were done for the day. Barb explored the campground; I explored a book of crossword puzzles. We watched the new arrivals try to fit their 42′ rigs into 45′ lots, and then we made dinner. This was my first picnic table dinner since buying the RV.

A day of doing nothing was exactly what I needed. Tomorrow: Lake Nipissing and Hwy 11 southbound.

I cannot return to the IDA drugstore in Gore Bay.  At least not after last week’s visit(s).  We went in to buy hair colour for me – I know, quelle surprise, this brunette ain’t natural – and a greeting card, while Barb looked for a decent quality sunscreen.  I paid for my two items, assuring the clerk I didn’t need a bag.  While waiting for BN, I saw some peanuts and decided to get them too.  Back to the counter, added to the pile in my hands.  But that’s okay, people forget things.  We step out of the store, then BN mentions some puzzle books that she thought might be fun, so we headed back in to the display at the back, with my juggling my items in my hands all the while.  We debated which level of the word games and math games to pick, and after much deliberation, went for level B for the words, and level C for the math.  You know these kinds of puzzles: Bob lives in the blue house; Omar does not live next door to the woman with the cat; Maria does not like birds.    Back up to the cashier we went, with me starting to feel pretty stupid.

About 20 minutes later, BN looks at the back of the book only to see the following: Level A – grades 1 & 2, Level B – grades 3 & 4, Level C – grades 5 & 6; Level D – grades 7 & 8, and Expert – grade 9 and up.  Yes, we had bought games that would test the intellect of 7 to 11 year olds.  Well, these books weren’t cheap, and we don’t know any 7 – 11 year olds to give them to.  So, we picked the books up, crossed the street back into the IDA, all the while hoping ‘my’ cashier was away on lunch.  No luck – she greeted us with a, “You’re back! I saw you coming!”  We explained our dilemma, and she let us upgrade to high school for the word puzzles, and grades 7 & 8 for the Math. 

I’m sure she thought we probably would have been better sticking with our original purchases, as clearly we did not know what we were doing.

Thank heavens I won’t be back there for a very long time.  Sheesh.

We are finding the internet service (or lack thereof) so frustrating.  BN has a lot going on at home this week, and the inability to connect with family is making her crazy.  It also has me agitated, as this is my future for the next few months.  I DO NOT like being out of contact and from a safety perspective, this is not good.

Last month I spent hours researching the best alternatives for internet and boosters, and based on a lot of different input, I ended up spending a chunk o’ change on a We Boost receiver/booster.  I had imagined it would be a fairly complex setup so hadn’t really moved ahead with it.  Yesterday we had found a perfect parking spot in front of the PC Independent Grocer in Gore Bay, and had reached our breaking point vis a vis our tech-blackout, so we spent an hour fiddling with the various components and eventually we had a pile of spaghetti wires strung about the cab of truck. (Did you know truck manufacturers still install a cigarette lighter (well, the 12V plug at least) but they hide them at the back of the glove compartment? BN was inspired to look there after 20 minutes of our combined grizzling and grumbling – thank heavens for inspiration.)  But in the end we think our reception is better, although it could just be our imagination (or a pocket of decent cell coverage as we pass through country roads).

Years ago, I was in Sudbury for 3 days of hosting workshops for the bank.  The days were long, so it was pretty much hotel-to-bank branch-to-hotel each day. Except the last day – we finished early and I had purposely booked a later flight, because the one thing I knew I wanted to see (I’d already seen the Big Nickel) was Science North (sister to the Ontario Science Centre – don’t start me on Mr Ford’s decision).  But it was not meant to be – it seems that in the early 2000s, Science North closed at 3pm on weekdays.  Well dammit.

So this time ‘round, I had planned for this.  We’d leave Little Current on Manitoulin midday, stop at Science North, then head on to Sturgeon Falls and the campground.  Weeeeelll . . . as per usual, my plans and my execution are not always in sync.  No time to stop in Sudbury.  But that was okay, we said as we continued along the Trans Can, we will camp for the night, pack up in the morning (as one does when one is in a motorhome instead of a trailer), make the one-hour trip back to Sudbury, hit Science North and then my friend’s niece’s vintage shop, then drive back to the campground.  Easy – after all, I’d booked us for two nights in Sturgeon Falls.  Except . . .

Except for the smell (we now officially enter TMI territory – feel free to skip ahead).  It is not ideal to empty the grey & black tanks too frequently – you need the whoosh of an almost full tank to thoroughly ‘rinse out’ each tank.  We thought we had at least two more days before we needed to empty the tanks.

We were wrong.

We came back from lunch in Little Current (I repeat – the pizzas and salads at Dockside are excellent), opened the door to the RV, and thought, “Oh-oh.”  It was time to act.  You know – the nose knows.  This was not a real problem; nothing was getting to danger or flood levels, but we knew our first act upon arriving at the campground was a full drain of the tanks.

So after a somewhat anxiety-fraught drive (construction, traffic jams, narrowed lanes, and a dafty MTO cop standing in the middle of the campground’s driveway chatting up the camp owner and blocking our progress), I had to do a full campsite set-up and hook-up to empty both tanks.  Nothing difficult, it just meant that by 5pm on a warm day, not only was I completely knackered, but I was in no mood to un-hitch everything 16 hours later, drive back and forth to Sudbury, and return & re-setup. 

But what about Science North?  Well, I’ve decided Science North is a pipe dream.  ‘Twas not meant to be.  Much like the Tate Modern in London (my friends know what I mean).

We agreed over a glass of wine – tomorrow would be a day of rest.  And I slept so well that night because of it.