Ottawa to Maynooth - Day 1

I like red-eye flights because I typically fall asleep before the plane leaves the ground.  Not this time.  No sleep between Portland and Chicago (the long leg), and only a brief nap between Chicago and Ottawa.  Fortunately, Tim Horton makes really good, strong (redundant, I know) coffee.  One X-large and an extraordinary donut kept me going for the entire day.

So, what's it like here?  GPS worked great, every kilometer.  During my last trip to Canada (1980s), I recall miles and kilometers.  (I also recall doing conversions in my head to pass the time while driving.)  No conversions today.  Since a kilometer is shorter than a mile, I'm convinced the metric system made a long drive shorter.  Another reason for the U.S. to try it.  I also marveled at the cost (and benefits) of having every sign in two languages.  Another lesson for the U.S. -- it can be done.

Ottawa has a surprisingly small airport, and getting around and out was a breeze.  Customs?  No waiting.  Car rental?  No line.  In short order I had left urbanity behind and was ... in the middle of nowhere.  I'm not used to so many interchanges without a single service in sight.  Even my coffee stop involved leaving the highway behind and going on an off-road adventure, confusing the GPS lady in the process.

And highway soon gives way to provincial roads (2 lanes) and county roads (less smooth 2 lanes).  Lots of green; lots of wildflowers.  The cuts made through the rock to build the roads reminded me of West Virginia.  Other natural roadside rock formations had the look of stacked stone walls.

And then, enter the Hastings Highlands!  These highlands are not western states' high. Instead, with a wondrous familiarity, they are West Virginia high.  No wonder my Dad loved this place so.

No roadside services plus one X-large coffee soon add up to "where the hell am I supposed to pee." Huge, gorgeous Gorman Lake turned into an unexpectedly pleasant find.  (No, I wasn't thinking of peeing in the lake.  It appears to be quite protected -- there was a sign prohibiting soap.)  The lake was accessible from the road, the outhouses a welcome bonus and superior to the bushes I was anticipating.

Gorman Lake

A very welcome find

I arrived in Maynooth too early to check into my hostel.  The public library, which lives just across the streeet, lured me in for my first opportunity for local research (and air conditioning and WiFi).  At first, the delightful young library worker (she reminded me of Zoey from Nurse Jackie) thought they had nothing in their collection to help me.  Then, she started to produce: the names of Bancroft newspapers to visit, several local histories compiled and and published in book form, and a referral to the Mayor, who is somewhat of a local historian herself.  I got my own special table for reviewing the reference materials.  Before I could start being anxious about calling the Mayor, she visited me at the library.  I'll never know if she was just passing through or if "Zoey" called her.  Now the Mayor of Maynooth is helping me locate the site of Dorothy's home in Boulter!  Nice people.

The Arlington hostel is just right for the price.  My big room is third floor, funky purple walls, queen bed, big couch, three windows that open, and a fan.

Today's only regret is that I murdered a slow-moving bird on my way to dinner.  Dinner, on the other hand, was yummy.  Kim, I found us a new source for liver and onions!

Final note:  Everyone seems to ignore the posted speed limits.  And not a Mountie in sight.  Is it a local thing?  I feel culturally inept in this regard.