June 27^th – Chalk River and on to Ottawa a day early

The dawning is gentle. A cloudless blue sky, cool zephyrs and an unknown bird’s song warbles in the morning. Squadrons of mosquitoes are arranged in formation immediately outside the screen door for an early morning assault. I’m not a fan of the chemicals in bug sprays but the sprays are essential here. Perhaps not as large as their Winnipeg cousins these wee beasties make up for lack of size by providing overwhelming numbers.

We’ve not seen a large variety of animals on our journey; a couple of white-tailed deer, a turtle in the middle of the highway, dozens of gophers, a coyote, some Eastern Red squirrels, and chipmunks. No moose. No pronghorn antelope. No felines. We do see ravens by the score, hawks, and myriad songbirds in suits of various colours. And bugs. Insects. They fly, they walk, they crawl. They feed huge populations of birds. A few, mosquitoes, black flies, horse flies, and deer flies’ lust after we humans. I’m pretty certain we’ll see at least one moose on the ‘rock’ – Newfoundland.

Ant mounds occupy every square foot of the campground!

Clouds have crept over our sky though forecast to be sunny. We’ll see as the day unfolds.

We arrive at the gates to the Chalk River reactor complex. Strangely enough the barrier doesn't lift to allow our caravan of three RV's entrance to the 7 km road to the facility. Sven approaches the door to the security station and a grey uniformed security dude, complete with sidearm, exits the door to inform Sven that they haven't done tours for years. We are to turn around and clear the road.  This we do, unimpressed with the Chalk River nuclear program. 

Onto Pembroke for lunch at Tim Horton's. I'm just not that Canadian I guess, as Tim doesn't overly appeal to me. It's OK and I'm happy that at one time it was Canadian, but now it's more South American and has some hiring policies that cause my social activist radar some blips. Nonetheless it fills the tummy with food that seems more healthy than McDonald's et al.

We decide to hit Ottawa a day early. I phone and we can extend our reservation by a day. Back into our chariots and we head off down the road. The sky darkens. Some really big raindrops descend rapidly and quickly fill the road with water. The long weekend is approaching, there are lots of cars and trucks splashing water like kids in a playground pool. But we make it through clover leafs and turnpikes and side roads and highways and chemins, and rue's and finally reach the barrier at Poplar Grove Campsite. It's now hot and muggy. The lady takes our money through a dial-up card reader that, she says, is powered by tiny mice. It is really sloooooowwwww. 

We have three side by side pull through sites for the next five days. A more permanent RVer lets me know, in a bit of a supercilious fashion,that I'm pulling through my assigned site in the wrong direction. I thank him, park and put lifts under the left side tires, just like I planned. I hope his weekend isn't ruined.

The Ceilidh at rest for the weekend.

And here we are...Ottawa, the nation's capital, on the Canada Day long weekend.  Cools.