Our ‘Going Away’ T shirts from the family.

The BRT

So here we are, poised on the precipice, so to speak, of our great adventure – 4 months of driving around Canada and the USA in our RV. Truth be known, we never thought of ourselves as ‘RVers’ but then I never thought of my self as being bald either – lesson here, never say never.

A bit of history and some introductions might help those of you not already bored to distraction with our discussions about this. This blog (I also never thought I would be a ’blogger’ – refer to earlier lesson) will have various contributions from the three couples on this epic voyage; Jane and Ike – hereafter referenced as Family # 1, Carla and Sean – hereafter referenced as Family # 2 and Diane and Phil – you probably have broken the elaborate code by now – Family # 3. The nomenclature dates from our trip to Greece in 2004 with these other couples and their children. It really helped with the billing in the restaurants. The children are off to various corners of the world now but the names are still useful.

The notion of this trip started in 2010 when Families # 2 and 3 were visiting Family # 1 in Whitehorse, Yukon. We drove around the Yukon and Alaska in Family #1’s Toyota van and were taken by the beauty of the area but were frustrated by the lack of accommodations in all the places we wanted to stay and admire, which always seemed more attractive if there wasn’t anyone else around i.e. no place to stay. There probably is some name for this conundrum but we all agreed there was only one solution – next time we would have an RV. And so it began. Many discussions and possibly too many bottles of wine and dark n’ stormies, the trip, like some over-chewed piece of gum, has now expanded to a circumnavigation, by land and sea, of Canada and the USA.

Valuing our sanity and friendship more than practicality we all have purchased RV’s of various sizes and descriptions. The above postings from Family # 1 show their truck camper, hereafter referenced as the LRT. Family # 2 are the proud owners of a Pleasure Craft class B hereafter referenced as the MRT and Family # 3 have a 2003 class B+ Kodiak VLR 2000 hereafter known as the BRT. This code you will have to break yourself – rent Robin Williams’ RV movie for the answer.

The interesting thing is that none of us have really spent any more than a weekend in our ‘rigs’ so we are heading into this just about as green as you can be, which may be the only way anyone undertakes something like this – in total freaking ignorance.

Countless maps and guidebooks have been consulted and Google Earth is now on top of our favourites list so we have a rough idea of a route – sort of. We are trying to keep that part flexible so that we don’t feel we have to be at any one spot at any particular time – with a few exceptions. We are doing a bit of a staggered start (not staggering) with Family # 3 heading out today to meet with Family # 1 in New Brunswick where we will overnight with them before heading off tomorrow on the first leg of the trip. Family # 2 are leaving Dartmouth on April 19 – they call it giving us a head start at the mark (Family # 2 are competitive racing sailors!) and we are all going to meet up on May 1st at the Grand Canyon – that’s the plan – for now – subject to change.
Having bought the BRT late last fall in Montreal Family # 3 have put a few kilometers on the beast, some of which have been eventful – I will return to that. Last fall was spent reworking some of the outdated technology in the beast; the cathode ray TV which only seemed to play reruns of I Love Lucy, the tape deck, headlights etc. We spent the last month or so waiting for the weather to break so we could start loading up the BRT to see what is going to fit and what has to be left behind. Unfortunately the weather has not been cooperative so the packing was postponed to the last two weeks which highlighted the need for some carpentry upgrades – shelves and the like.

The packing is now complete and the old BRT has proven to be some distant relative of Dr. Who’s Tardis, much larger on the inside than on the outside – although it is no shrinking violet on the outside – about the size of an Metro Transit access-a-bus. More on the challenges of that girth later.

Various on-line lists have been checked and cross checked, reams of paper have fallen victim to lists and routes and ‘to do’ and ‘to take’ that now all have strokes through them. It looks like we are ready to go.

The original plan was to go yesterday but do to weather, one of our team was under it, we postponed a day. When you have been planning something for so long a last minute change to lift-off comes with mixed emotions. Sort of like going to school after having crammed all night for an exam only to find out the next day that it is cancelled. Once you get your head around it you know that those last minute things you thought might not get done were now going to be OK.

Things like filling up that half empty propane tank in the BRT. So yesterday off I go to Dartmouth, the only place I can find to fill ‘er up. Having called that morning to confirm that they were able to serve me that day off I headed across the bridge, even remembering to take my MacPass – feeling pretty clever on that one. As I approached my usual ‘MacPass only’ lane I began to appreciate that the mirrors on this thing are really wide. While holding the pass in one hand while trying to avoid decapitating a green flourescent clad commissionaire on my drivers side I suddenly became aware that I may have slightly misjudged my approach. I say that because I suddenly had the sensation of my head being inside a water bucket what was being used for batting practice by some major league superstar.

I was hoping against hope that something had just fallen off a shelf behind me but when I saw the expression on the commissionaire’s face it seemed more likely that I had just peeled the roof of the beast and vision of our trip started to get a little blurry. I rolled down the window and the commissionaire said ‘that was a pretty loud bang, I think you hit something – let me look’. She soon returned with a handfull of unidentifiable metal parts. It could have been the warp drive for all I knew based on the condition of the remnants. Despondently I crawled out, not knowing what to expect and soon found that the lower metal bracket of my canopy arm had had a close encounter of the destructive kind with a concrete wall and as a result had returned to its original sub atomic structure. The canopy leg was now flapping in the breeze – I wasn’t going anywhere soon and it was late afternoon on Friday.

Very quickly I was surrounded by a phalanx of flourescent vested commissionaires taking photographs and making notes. When they asked for my license, insurance and registration I pointed out that there didn’t appear to be any damage to the concrete abutment that had destroyed my bracket but ‘there had to be a report written’ – visions of Alice’s Restaurant and the Group W bench drifted through my now throbbing head. Hazard cones were put up behind me and I’m pretty sure that the overhead sign was now flashing ‘asshole ahead’, to warn off any other approaching drivers.

Some sense of order began to return to my addled brain and I managed to secure the flailing canopy arm to the vehicle and with the sage parting advice from the commissionaire,who was younger than some socks that I own, that next time I use the truck lane I headed off to ‘buy propane’ – I am not easily distracted from a task. Arriving at the gas station (Canadian Tire on Main Street in case you are interested) I was advised that they couldn’t pump propane today after all because they didn’t have an attendant. So I am standing there thinking if I had known that I wouldn’t have come across the bridge andI wouldn’t have destroyed my canopy. Trust me that was not a good place to allow my mind to go. I pointed out, very tactfully, that I had confirmed that very morning that propane would be available but all I got was a shrug and ‘I’m sorry I can’t have your business today’ – or ever again if the truth be known was being shouted inside my brain. At that moment I was very glad that Canada does not support the right to bear arms – some temptations are best removed.

I did manage however to locate another station not far away to get propane but before I headed out I returned to the BRT to survey the damage again and to try and develop a plan. I had a good relationship with Orange RV in Enfield and had just been there the day before to have my steering fixed so on a long shot I called them and sent a photo of the offended bracket. While they scoured their spare parts bin I drove to get my propane and then on spec headed towards Enfield. En route Andre called me and said that Paul their mechanic/RV repair guru was sure he could fix it so an half hour later, after cannibalizing some of their stock and pop riveting me back to like new condition they had me rolling – total cost $28, which included $10 they apologized they had to charge to cover the costs of a special order to replace the bracket they had provided me. Like the VISA ads say – some things are priceless and good service is one of them. I got back in the BRT and sat there for a moment taking deep breaths, knowing that some days you do get lucky despite your best efforts to muck things up.

So you are now up to date. I expect that my future postings may be somewhat shorter than this but brevity is not my long suit so.

So we’re off to see the wizard – stay tuned.