Ottawa Pictures

Dad painted the door into the garage with chalkboard paint - and I illuminated the door with a manuscript from the Book of Kells!

Mom (Stella), Dad (Raymond), Harry and I (Bradley) infront of the house in Barrhaven.

Cross-Canada Trip Pictures

One of the Rockey Mountains over Kicking Horse Pass

Observing the Drumheller Badlands

Fossilized Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton

The Hollidays together at Ken's place in North Battleford, Saskatchewan. From left to right: Lenn Holliday, Bradley Clements, Ray, Stella Holliday, Kirk Jones, Allie (bellow), Rob Holliday, Seth Jones (bellow), Harry Clements, and Joanna Jones (picture by Ken Holliday).

Missive #3: On the Road!

September 2, 2009

Hey everybody!

“Is it not a fine thing for two Roman consuls [Cicero and Pliny the Younger]…to employ their leisure in arranging and dressing up a pretty missive, in order to gain a reputation for a good knowledge of the language of their nurse? …If the deeds of Xenophon and Caesar had not far surpassed their eloquence, I do not believe they would ever have written them down. They sought to recommend not their sayings but their doings.”

Michel de Montaigne (1533-92)

Well, so far I well deserve the scorn of Monsieur Montaigne, for I have done much more saying than doing. That should be amended herein!
I had just put dinner in the oven on July 30th when a knock came at the door and Bill and Maureen with Sam and Ellie rolled in with their luggage, having just returned from China. Once the baggage was through the door and we had exchanged hugs and greetings – exhausted as they were after 26 hours of travel – they retold their many amazing adventures to me over dinner. The next day – which was a continuation of a procession of beautiful sunny days – was Bill’s birthday and we went for a swim in Beaver Lake and a party at Derek and Joanne’s place. Migrating up to Derek’s studio, he put on a vinyl record of the Yard Birds and we joined in enthusiastically on drum kit, tambourine, and electric and resonator guitars.
I spent the beginning of August studying Kiswahili, learning some new classical guitar repertoire, and honing my rapier lunge. Nonetheless, after months of hectic school-work, fundraising, and preparing and packing for my trip, it seemed like I had finally reached the still-point at which there was little left to do. All of my projects were finished or packed, I lacked time to start any new ones, and I was getting antsy for movement. I was on the road soon enough, though: on the first Wednesday of August I caught city buses and the giant new ferry to Vancouver to meet up with Mom, Dad and Harry who had driven across Canada to visit in BC for the Summer holidays. I waited for them in the foyer of the Vancouver Art Gallery where Dad was viewing the show of Rembrandt, Vermeer, and other Baroque art. When they walked into the foyer they didn’t notice me until I was right in front of them and Harry leaped in the air and did a little scream, seeing me for the first time since Christmas. We drove through Vancouver and Stanley Park, then headed for the Horseshoe Bay ferry, Dad pointing out scenes from his childhood all along. Once there, we parked in the ferry line-up and I pushed Harry on the swings in the park. We had fish and chips at Troll’s Restaurant under the cedar sign that Dad had carved and painted when he had lived here, for Garry Troll, the owner. On the ferry to Langdale Harry clasped to my arm and unceasingly read me my driving manual despite my efforts to shake him off.
Once there we drove to Gran’s co-housing village where I slept two nights on her garden porch. During our stay, Dad and I helped to clean up Gran’s garden, Harry drug me off to play many games of ping-pong and bocce at the village Common House, and I looked at Gran’s collection of the family’s books, many of which bore beautiful but deteriorating bindings dating to the 1800’s. We met Gran’s friend Sally who lived a couple of doors down and planned to host a pair of Canada World Youth participants in September. She owned a viola and cello which her uncle had hand-crafted, both of which were beautiful to the eye and the ear, and we played together.
After a nice stay with Gran we drove to Madiera Park where we met with one of Mom’s cousins, Pat, who had lived in the same childhood neighbourhood, and his wife, Marie, on their powerboat. Uncle John brought the Carlisle over from Garden Bay and rafted up to visit. Uncle Rick and three-year-old cousin Alice came over with Lilly the spaniel as we were leaving and invited us to a BBQ party at a friend’s place to watch the hot-rod and classic car parade. Harry and I took turns keeping an eye on little Alice who had a great time swinging twenty feet in the air on the long tire swing, jumping on the trampoline, and sliding on the slide. When the parade began everybody sat on the curb and watched the huge variety of cars roll by. The younger boys made a sign which read “Burn Out!” and yelled “Lay rubber!” and pumped their fists for the drivers to honk their horns. A few drivers were happy to oblige and screeched by in a cloud of tire smoke leaving a black trail behind them on the road. Afterwards, as we drove back to Rick and Lisa’s, many people still on the roadside gave us the thumbs up or exclaimed “What the hell is that thing on that car?” in reference to Dad’s stream-lined plywood luggage rack that he had made for the roof-racks and decorated with hot-rod flames.
Rick and I slept aboard the Orythia, and in the gray-misted west-coast the morning I disturbed a huge blue heron out of a tree. I went to visit my great-aunt Shendra down the road and had an enjoyable visit. Back at Rick’s place, Alice was in one of her many pretty dresses and wanted to jump off of the dock, but daddy Rick told her to stop showing off and wait until she had her bathing-suit on. Once they both did, Rick did back-flips off of the dock and Alice copied him and swam around to the ladder, without the aid of a life-jacket, while laughing and spouting jets of water at Dad. Uncle John brought the Carlisle around to Bargain Harbour and rafted to the Orythia, braving the heavy seas and 30 knot winds that blew outside but which were completely cut out within the bay. We all visited and had dinner together.
The next day Rick, Alice, Lilly, and the lot of us, drove up to the cabin which Uncle Rick is building in Lund. Mom, Dad and I visited with our Aunt Rosemary and her husband Jeff in Powell River, while the others went swimming. At the cabin Mom and I made dinner and we all went for a trail-run through the forest. Alice had a great time in her jogging stroller as Rick barrelled along over the rough path, but she soon wanted to use her own legs to prove that what boys who are from four- to nineteen-times her age can do, she can do at least as well. She ran along and, although she fell often, she was always back on her feet and at it again without a complaint. We reached the trail end and rested on the rocky bluff looking out over Savary Island.
We slept the night in the cabin, and drove back to Powell River the next day to catch the ferry to Comox on Vancouver Island, and drive to Port McNiell to catch another ferry to Alert Bay on Cormorant Island to visit our friend Dorothy. Dorothy was a magnificent hostess for the three days that we stayed, feasted, conversed, hiked, and visited with her and other friends around the island, old and new. We also visited with our good friends Jamie and Vicki Taylor and their grand-daughter Amethyst. Harry and I helped the boy next door to Jamie to put up a zip-line between the trees, which was great fun for those light enough to ride it until the block became to hot with friction to use.
On the 13th of August we bid farewell to our friends and drove back down island, catching the ferry that Jamie was First Mate aboard. Entirely unannounced, we stopped in to say hello to Dad’s friends Pat and Beverly. Having tried and failed to contact us three days previous, and having just returned and being just about to leave again for holidays, they were very surprised to see Dad’s face peering through their glass door after years without contact. They had some very nice antique furniture, vinyl records, and books. Most of the books dated to the 18th and early 19th Centuries, as well as a 16th Century bible. Continuing down we stopped in Cowichan to visit our Aunty Bobby who was very happy to visit with us. We descended the Malahat as darkness thickened and arrived at Bill and Maureen’s place around 10 pm. During my time away my official driver’s license card and graduation certificate had arrived in the mail.
The ensuing days consisted of much visiting. Harry played golf every day with Bill. On Friday, as Mom and I were going about town running errands we ran across our friend Andrea. On Saturday Dad drew me as I shot my final practice at the Victoria Bowmen archery range, after which we went out for lunch with Mom’s step-aunts and uncles, Norman, Doreen, Marion, and Roy. From there we went to visit life-long friends Eric and Susan and their children Terrence and Eleanor, before going back to Bill and Maureen’s for a somewhat impromptu party. Many of our closest friends from the Victoria area came and contributed to the potluck feast. When we were finished discussing history, philosophy and periodic tables with Eric, Allison taught Alex and I to play “Killer Bunnies”, and Harry and Angus soon joined us in the very imaginative and giggle-inducing card game. Barry and Angus took turns on the guitar and keyboard, I played guitar and violin, and Dad got some drums together and we swung “I’ve Got Rhythm” and some other fun tunes. The following day was my final fencing practice before leaving, so I challenged all comers and faced all six of those who arrived one after another for two and a half hours. By the end I was drenched in sweat, but it was fun!
Ken, Peggy, Kenny and Will, our sailing friends from S/V Zeeotter whom we had met in Fiji, drove up from their home in Washington to see us. After meeting them at the M/V Coho dock we toured Fisherman’s Wharf, our old neighborhood from our days on Silent Sound, then went to camp at Aunty Mary’s ranch in Goldstream. For three days Ken, Rob, and I played guitars, Harry and Carter golfed, us kids hiked, trampolined, and swung on swings, while we all camped out and enjoyed eachother’s company. Mom, Dad, Bill and I went to Herman’s Jazz Club for Noah Becker’s birthday jam. The music was from a broad range, and was all very, very fine. As we left Noah, who had been Mom and Dad’s best man at their wedding, asked everyone to give a hand to his friend, a great artist, who was returning to Ottawa! The next day the former Silent Sounders and Zeeotters all congregated aboard S/V Greybeard for a meal with Humphrey and his many usual guests.
The time finally came for us to bid farewell to Victoria. We said goodbye to Aunty Mary, Matthew, Carter, Ken, Peggy, Kenny and Will, then drove to Bill and Maureen’s place to pack the last of my stuff into and onto the car. We miraculously succeeded, with my backpack between my feet, and my guitar and violin cases forming a wall in the demilitarized zone between Harry and I in the back seat, then drove to Deep Cove to visit with our friends Fran and Helen. As expected, we didn’t fit on the 5 o’clock sailing to Tsawwassen from Swartz Bay, but we caught the next ferry at 6. As the ferry pulled away from Vancouver Island, I left behind my archery club, spiritual community, SCA branch, and many other family and close friends.
After spending the night at Dad’s very hospitable cousin Shelley’s place in Vancouver, we drove up into the mountains where the slopes were inhabited by pine trees and the clouds were low over us. During our stay at Grumpa and Nana’s in Princeton there was a traditional music festival which we very much enjoyed. The festival kicked off with a Celtic street dance on Friday night which my poor calves (having just recovered from my last fencing practice) protested for days after the tip-toe springing dances, but the fun was, again, worth it. Between dances a man came up and introduced himself to Mom and I, saying that he had been sworn as a Canadian at a citizenship ceremony which Mom had administrated and I had played guitar at! Mom recalled the thank-you card that he had sent. For the following days Mom, Nana and I listened to the back-to-back performances of Celtic, country, ballads, shanties, clog and morris dancing, and other traditional music, dancing and story-telling. Saying goodbye to Grumpa and Nana, we got in our high-piled car and drove through the smooth rolling Okanogan scenery like an Arabian caravan camel en route to Mecca.
Reaching our friend's Jim and Chris' place in Kelowna, we stayed there two nights. Jim drove Dad and I out to the airport to see his beautifully home-constructed little yellow aircraft. After our stay we continued on, and the sharp gray crags that stood sentinel over Kicking Horse Pass looked down from above us as the Rocky Mountains bore us over their backs. As we drove along the highway, passing road workers and century-old railway-tracks, I looked into the valleys far below and wondered at the perseverance that the first pioneers into this region must have had. Stopping at a gas station to fuel up, we found a tanker truck filling the station which had run dry. Apparently many stations had due to a tornado, and the tanker had to come from Vancouver. Once there was gas, it ran very slowly, at less than a letre per minute. We left the sun in British Columbia as we descended down the slope into the Prairies, and we opted to spend the night in a Calgary motel which smelt of cigarette smoke rather than drive till midnight and set up camp in our destination of Drumheller. The car gave us a little scare the next day, when it refused to start after we had stopped for breakfast, but Mom got it going just as Dad was going to phone for help.
Continuing on to Drumheller, we sank below the sedimentary layers of the pre-historic valley and model dinosaurs began appearing on the sidewalks as we entered the town. We drove to the Royal Tyrrell Museum, Canada's only museum dedicated to palaeontology, which houses dinosaur finds from Alberta and the world. Having visited the museum during my dinosaur-craze era sixteen years ago, a few of the exhibits were vaguely recognizable. Although my craze was long over, it was still fascinating and Harry loved it too.
We set up tent at a campsite, apparently next to a river although there was a fence and dike between us and it. Mom, Dad and I went for a short hike up into the Badlands, the mystical desert of hard, rolling hills. The next morning we set off across the province, driving through vast fields of wheat and canola and past the emotionless mechanical arms of oil-well pumps. We stopped at a lookout over Horse-Thief Valley, and Harry fell in love with the local gopher community who scampered up to eat nuts and raisins out of his hand. As he broke pieces off of a cookie to feed one, it grabbed the whole cookie and ran off to sit next to it's burrow, holding it between its two paws and taking bites out of it in a hilariously human-like fashion. We made it to our cousin Ken's place in North Battleford, Saskatchewan, and he put us up in his beautiful cabin on Jackfish Lake where we roasted marshmallows, swam in the lake, and visited. Finding avid golfers in one another, Harry and Ken hit it off and went golfing together the following morning. We went to the Fort Battleford National Park, where the Northwest Mounted Police had a fort during the 1800's. We witnessed a re-enactment of a rifle drill in the stockade, and went on a guided tour of the surviving fort buildings. We then returned to Ken's place where a minor Holliday family reunion was underway. Ken's son, Rob, daughter, Joanna and her family, and brother, Lenn, were there and I much enjoyed meeting everyone. Having always been very interested in history and genealogy, I loved meeting Lenn who had done extensive research of the Holliday family going back to the late 1700's.
After a wonderful stay in Battleford, we continued across Saskatchewan, camping the night in Manitoba. The roads on the prairies are so flat and straight that people joke that if you fall asleep on the highway you won't crash, you'll just run out of gas! When we entered Ontario the scenery became much more interesting, with low hills, young forests, and many beautiful little lakes and rivers. We sited a wolf, a coyote, a porcupine, two moose, some snakes and many birds of prey. One campsite that we stayed at had an ominous statue at its gate of a giant mosquito bearing away a camper for dinner. In actuality the mozzies were of an average size, but they made up in numbers for what they lacked in individual size. As Mom had only learned after booking her holidays that Harry's school began a full week before Labour Day, we were in a bit more of a rush to get back than we would have been. For that reason we drove long and hard the next two days and stayed at a hotel to avoid camp set-up and take-down time, and he only missed the first day of school.
Arriving at the house in Ottawa, we found the front lawn well maintained and the garden growing well, as our neighbour, Greg, had been looking after Clouseau and the house. Going through the front door, I whistled for Clouseau and a loud meow was heard from up the stairs. He came down and seemed very happy to see us.
So the next week or so I'll be working on college preparation stuff for next year, and doing last minute shopping, packing and preparation for my Canada World Youth exchange. I'll be off to Toronto on the 9th for the CWY orientation camp, so I am on the brink of yet another brand new experience! Crossing 6000 kilometers of Canada with my family was the perfect re-connective and self-discovering experience, and I finally feel that I have a sufficient connection to my country to be an ambassador to it. Mom, Dad, Harry and I need to thank all of our amazing family and friends across Canada who have hosted us and made us welcome in their homes and communities – I am honoured to know so many wonderful people!
For those of you who have long been wondering, I have been told where in Tanzania I will be going in December: a rural community called Chamazi located 25 km south of Tanzania’s largest city, Dar es Salaam. I have also been informed that I am the recipient of a $1000 entrance award to Camosun College when I return to study there in 2010. As I said, the Ontario half of my CWY exchange begins on September 9th, and you will receive all the news of that in my next Missive. This letter grows too long: it must go to the barber's with my beard!
Your Friend,

Bradley A. Clements
Ottawa, Ontario