Adventures
More fun than a barrel of monkeys
Loading up luxo RV for Maritimes trek is something every family should do
Lorraine Sommerfeld | The Hamilton Spectator
I knew I wanted to drive to the Maritimes, but I was equally certain I didn't want to drive there trapped in a car with my family. The offer to test out an RV seemed like the perfect answer -- little did I know I was signing up for more than a vehicle.
RVing is a verb for a reason. Along for the ride? Me, The Poor Sod Who Lives With Me, Christopher, 16, Ari, 13, my sister Roz and her husband Daryl. More fun than a barrel of monkeys.
It seemed like a stroke of genius to decide to blast across Quebec the first day to get to New Brunswick quickly.
With everyone fresh, I figured we could make for the border before the fun wore off. Two things shaved a little off my genius designation, however.
Driving a motorized RV is not difficult, but it definitely takes some getting used to, and deciding to sign up for an eight-hour starter lesson was probably kind of dumb.
The other problem? Though we stuck to the Trans-Canada Highway throughout Quebec, most of it was torn apart for construction. As everyone argued what the signs meant in their high school French, Poor Sod and I took turns at the wheel.
You know how a cat uses its whiskers as sensors before entering a tight spot? Picture a 31-foot-long cat weighing 20,000 pounds. That's what your side mirrors end up being in narrow construction lanes. The road weaved and slalomed in holiday traffic, and we gratefully landed in our first campsite on Night One.
"Mom! That guy's just wearing his underwear!" are not words you want to wake up to your first morning in a trailer park. But sure enough, our neighbour was a little further into his vacation than we were. While our vehicle -- a 2008 Chateau Sport -- was pretty luxurious, you still step out into the same mud as everyone else if it's been raining. Roz and I decided to find the showers -- the smartest thing I'd tossed in at the last minute was a bag of quarters and loonies.
We could have showered in our unit, but there were tanks that had to be emptied, and the less we used them, the less often the Poor Sod had to connect them. The first morning, Ari ran to get the video camera to record the Tank Dumping. It was the first and last time he showed up for the connection of the Thunder Hose, as the boys took to calling it.
I'd made extensive use of a website (gorving.ca) to arrange the trip. It co-ordinates campsites, dealers and RV enthusiasts of all stripes, and for newbies like us, there was a lot of invaluable information. There are a myriad of different kinds of motorhomes and trailers you can rent or buy; I'd asked to use a motorized RV, which meant you drive it, you don't tow it. This limits your mobility once you've arrived at a site, but with on-board amenities such as a kitchen and washroom, you're very self-sufficient.
I had no problem letting my sister cook dinner every night.
Eastern Canada is ridiculously beautiful. Even with our guess-and-point selection of campsites, we found wonderful people and terrific scenery. By Night Two, we decided we preferred small owner-operated sites. We logged a lot of mileage each day in an effort to cover a lot of territory.
In these times of towering gas prices, I was a little tentative pulling up to the pumps. Surprisingly, while many people were curious about the actual cost to fill it (about $150 to $200), I encountered far more people who smiled as they saw the boys, and advised me to seize this fleeting advantage for such a trip. They were right.
The cheapest airfares I could find for six of us would have totaled $3,000, and we would have had to rent a vehicle to get around. Three hotel rooms each night would have added at least another $240 (campsites averaged about $25 each night), and the fact we made nearly all of our meals meant we were just buying groceries. The RV had a great fridge and freezer, and you soon get used to a cupboard holding bread and T-shirts.
The best part of the trip? The people. At a camp office in St. Ann, N.S., when I went looking to buy some clothespins (note: take clothespins), I had two offers from other campers to use theirs. When we realized we had no firewood (note: buy firewood), others graciously pitched in. An axe appeared from one neighbour seeing Christopher tackling a large branch (note: you need an axe), and a can opener was one site away when ours conked out.
Near Sheet Bay, N.S., the dearest man in the world stood talking to me in the rain for two hours, and I learned more about the area's history -- and his -- as I stood transfixed by his words.
In St. John, N.B., the boys finally had an Internet connection (for the first and only time on the trip), yet opted for the campfire in a site overlooking the Bay of Fundy (note: forget the electronics). The RV had enough storage space beneath to bring along the boys' bikes, and each evening they'd hop out and take off to get the lay of the land.
I learned you do a load of laundry when you can, and nobody will die eating hotdogs -- again -- if you've misjudged where a grocery store should be.
I learned you need a big mat under your steps, or six people will track in every speck of grunge in record time. I learned that when you're booking a campsite and they ask if you want a three-way, they're talking hydro, water and sewage. And no, they don't think it's funny anymore.
If you're venturing into Worlds Unknown, I suggest a calm, competent driver, and an equally adept navigator.
A backup camera proved invaluable, but you still must make cautious, slow turns. We were hauling around a big rear end -- too quick on the gas, and you take out a gas pump or mailbox.
The beauty of this RV was the self-sufficiency. If we'd wandered too far off the beaten path -- an urge I have wherever I go -- you have a generator for power, and propane runs the fridge and stove. For those that consider such things sacrilege, I'll give up the power, but leave me my fridge.
At St. John, we opted to take the Princess of Acadia ferry across the Bay of Fundy to Digby, N.S.
I debated the eight-hour drive it would chop off, and decided $350 for all of us and our vehicle was a deal.
The ferry is enormous -- you drive into the bowels of the ship, and head upstairs where they have cafes, gift shops, movies and several decks. I kept waiting for Gopher or Captain Stubing to pop out.
The three-hour ride is spectacular. Poor Sod saw a couple of dolphins, but I had the camera -- I was taking pictures of seaweed, certain it was a sea monster. They took the camera away from me.
We snaked our way from Halifax up the coast for several hours. Tight, winding turns that hug every harbour and cove -- the speed limit is posted as 90 km/h, but we took it considerably slower in an intermittent rain.
There are convenient pull-off spots, and if you get lost, you can literally just ask anyone you see for help.
We spent two nights out near the tip of Cape Breton Island, a fabulous little camp called St. Ann's. We'd reserved an ocean-front site, and we spent two glorious days chasing the surf and collecting rocks. In Ontario, you can easily forget we're bounded by oceans in this vast country.
I'm no camper, and many of our experiences on this trip were firsts for me. I love driving, but had forgotten how much you miss flying over an area, and how hotel lobbies tell you nothing about the place you are in. Travelling with a full contingent of family is costly; a motorhome let us discover the places we ventured in comfort, and allowed us to bring bikes and amenities to satisfy each family member.
Do it once while the kids are young enough for you to pull rank; we have a fabulous country to explore.
Some travel expenses were provided to the writer by Go RVing (gorving.com).
Rental RV unit from Motor Home Travel Canada Inc., Woodbridge, Ont.
As driven:
For the uninitiated:
Take lots of bungee cords. They make instant clothes lines, and keep stuff from flying around.
Dump out your change bin and take lots of quarters and loonies. These are for tolls, showers and laundry.
Laundry facilities are like a bathroom when you're pregnant: Use it whether you think you have to or not -- you may not see another one in time
If someone has to pee, stop. There is no seatbelt on the toilet
When booking a site for your RV, they will ask if you want a three-way. Don't get excited. It means water, power and sewage. And they're sick of the jokes.
They call it a "dump station" because that is the only name they could come up with. Take lots of rubber gloves.
Take an axe for firewood, and flip-flops to wear in the shower. Do not confuse these two activities.
Do not make fun of other campers' sites, especially those who have permanent sunrooms, lighting and porches. These are the pros who will give you a can opener, matches, beer and advice.
If every other campsite has something like a big mat under their steps, and you don't, on day two you will buy a big mat.
Put out your fire, observe recycling and garbage signs, quiet things down at 11, smile and be kind. As soon as you pulled in, everyone noted where you were from - you just became an ambassador.
2008 Chateau Sport 29R, with a Ford 6.8L, V-10.
Gross Vehicle Combined weight is 20,000 lbs., overall length is 31 feet, 2 inches.
MSRP of this model with options as driven is $79,912, slideouts are standard.
Unit features 111 cubic feet of exterior storage space -- which is loads. We had two big mountain bikes, in addition to a barbecue and all the other stuff six people need to haul along.
Weekly rental: $1,945 (high season).
Our itinerary: Burlington, Ont., east to Riviere-du-Loup, Que., south to St. John, N.B. We took the Princess of Acadia ferry to Digby, N.S., headed east to Halifax, N.S., then up the coast to St. Ann's on Cape Breton Island. We returned through Moncton, N.B., north to Riviere-du-Loup, Que., and home.
Total kilometres: 4,500
Total gas: $1,413.86 (1,091 litres)
Average consumption: 24.2L/100 km.
Adventures
