Reggie Thomson’s Diary

Seth was taken into the hospital today. Hugo came over to say I should stay at Ron and Wendy’s for the day. He didn’t think there was anything the matter, but Pat wanted a second opinion. It turned out that Seth has a chest infection that needs antibiotics. The mother’s instinct shouldn’t be underestimated. In the afternoon, I went in with Hugo, and was dropped at the Mall, opposite Safeway. Radio Shack had some jewel-case Memorex CDs but at 20$ for ten - about double the normal rate. I didn’t think I had any other option, but in another shop, there were unbranded ones at 99 cents each. I also found some photo frames that were much nicer.

I spent most of the day at Ron and Wendy’s. I’m working on the album, puting a short title on each album and displaying it on the left of the page. I’m also trying to adapt the code to create an all HTML version for the CD-ROM. I guess there’s not much else to say for today - or if there was, I’ve since forgotten it.

I went with Ron and Wendy to their church. There is another church on the same road. That’s where all the traditional locals go - where the men all wear braces, and the women simple dresses and black capes. The two churches had split some time ago.

Inside, I was immediately taken with the rows of coat-hangers. They’re needed in winter, I’m told. I was introduced to a few people before the service. It was a fairly standard service, with a group from a local bible camp leading the worship. Bible camps seem to be a large part of the summer scene in churches in Canada.

An elderly gentleman gave the reading. “History repeats itself,” he said. “Around eighty years ago, I learned to walk. I hung onto all the furniture to get around. Now I find I’m doing the same!” He read “in tongues” - the tongues of the Middle-Aged English otherwise known as the King James Version. I’m told this isn’t common in this church. It was well attended. The sermon was on “The pharisee and the tax collector.” I don’t remember any of the main points! Ron and Wendy had invited us all round for a meal. We sat in the gazebo - taking care to open and close the mosquito-netted door quickly. Even so, the bugs seemed to get in. Seth was well-behaved. We ate “Farmer Sausage” - a speciality of the area, served with a potato salad.

I showed all of the photos on the computer. It’s too many. Perhaps I need an intermediate level, between the favourites (about 30/3500 photos) and the main albums (about 250/3500). I doubt if anyone is even going to look at all the favourites on the web. However, I think I need all the photos from one location, because people I met there, or people who live there, want to see their own choice of city.

Later that evening, I continued with the internet work.

It seems better that I remain in my room until about lunch time. I had another delicious breakfast with Ron and Wendy. I did some computing work in the morning. This time, I’m trying to improve the web page programming, rather than typing my diaries.

There was some shopping to do, so Hugo and I drove into Steinbach in the pouring rain. Safeways only has the large container of Head and Shoulders shampoo. It will have to do, or perhaps I can use my existing container and transfer half to it. I really don’t wish to carry unnecessary weight. Next door, in Canadian Tyre, I found a belt - a quick-lock strap that will double as a belt. I couldn’t find any jewel-case CDs, so we went to a computer store. No luck there, either. One other shop normally stocked them, but were out at present. I bought some cheap photo frames, but I think they’re too cheap for presents.

In the afternoon, Hugo and Pat had a visit from another Pat. She gave some advice on how to hold a colicy child, so I took some photos of Hugo - the Proud Father. Seth has a short tongue, and Hugo has to teach him to stick it out! I didn’t catch the right moment - Father and Son with Tongues Out! Still, I took lots of snaps.

The rain had stopped, and it was sunny again. Hugo drove me to Whiteshell Park, about an hour and a half back along the Trans Canada Highway. We caught up on some more news, and Hugo gave me descriptions of the characters in the church he goes to, and some of their defects. I promptly forgot them all. I’m not really a people person, if you haven’t already guessed from the banal nature of this diary. I’m certainly not capable of writing character descriptions. I’d probably get them all wrong, anyhow, and since this is a public document, get into deep trouble or lose what friends I have.

I was supposed to be navigating. The signpost said “Whiteshell,” but I thought it was only the first turning. We turned off at the information centre when I realised my error. Still, it meant I could go in to ask for a Manitoba map, and get some suggestions about photogenic spots in the province.

We drove up to McGillvray Falls. I guess I was expecting a waterfall, rather than a cascade. The sun was already low in the sky. Further up was a beaver dam. It was small, compared to the one in Janeville. We waited for quite some time, but there was no sign of any activity. Once again, the beavers have eluded me.

Still, I took some snaps of the lakes and scenery. I also wanted some of the Canadian Shield - the rock formation that covers a large proportion of the country, but the sun was by now below the tree level. The mosquitos didn’t trouble me, as I had sprayed myself. However, the flies started buzzing round my hair. Hugo had sprayed his hair, too, but I hadn’t thought it necessary.

Driving back to Star Lake, I chose one spot where I thought I might catch the sunset. It wasn’t so good, so we continued to the Keswick Fellowship Lodge. I asked if it was OK to take photos. Apparently, they don’t own the beach, so it was fine.

I enjoyed rushing round to catch the sunlight. One gentleman remarked: “I hope you have a strong filter.”

” It’s a digital camera!” I replied. Pointing a lens into the sun can burn out the shutter on a normal camera, but I don’t know what effect it might have on a CCD. Still, I wonder why he chose that method to intervene. It seemed less than friendly. I’m beginning to have more respect for what I perceive to be a more Japanese approach - which in its desire to preserve good feelings, gives more thought to the strategy for conveying suggestions. I’ve heard it said that Japanese education doesn’t teach the Japanese how to think for themselves. Perhaps our “Western” education doesn’t teach us how to communicate.

One photo was taken leaning over the water. I wrap the camera strap round my wrist several times for safety. We didn’t wait for the sun to completely disappear. Perhaps I sho uld have found another spot on the map. By the time we got to Falcon Beach, it was alre ady dark. Many of the shops and restaurants were closed, but we found one place for a quick snack. Hugo was low on money, so I paid for this one.

We were back home late. When I got in, I realised that my computer was over at Hugo’s. I went out in the dark to retrieve it, but without a torch, was worried I would stray from the path and get covered in Poison Ivy rash.

I had a long chat with Ron and Wendy over a filling breakfast in the morning. Ron is a retired headmaster, but has many other commitments with church and the MCC (Mennonite ???) a charity that has access into countries such as North Korea and Iraq because of its pacifist commitment.

Hugo came to fetch me for lunch. Lorna was cooking. Pat spent most of the time feeding Seth. He seems to be very hungry, and when he’s not feeding, he is either sleeping or crying. Lorna lives in Moosejaw, Saskatchewan, but is helping out for the week.

It rained for much of the day. Hugo and I went out for a walk around his estate and the neighbours. All the neighbours on this dirt-track road are relatives, barring one - the noisy ones opposite. The son seems to play his music loud enough for the rest of the planet, whether they wish to hear it or not - and usually it is not.

Pat owns a large tract of forest and a field, which is let out to a nearby farmer. We met the horses. I had to wear my shoes for the first time. Hugo pointed out the Poison Ivy. “Don’t touch it!” he warned. “It’s not like stinging nettles. It’s much worse, and there’s no antidote like Dock leaves.”

Later in the afternoon, I took some snaps of Hugo with Rascal, Ron and Wendy’s cat. It was a stray, but seems very comfortable with people. Hugo and Pat’s cat, Jinks, on the other hand, is much more of a loner.

In the evening, I was able to get onto the internet. I spent some time putting the photos onto the web, and updating the web database. Hugo gave me his local web number, which was convenient. While uploading, I checked my bank statement. Just as well I did - I seem to be missing about three weeks of pay. I have been paid for the final three weeks of work, but not the three prior to that. I paid off my Barclaycard bill, and transferred some money out of the Halifax Internet account. Let’s hope it all goes through in time, so that I don’t have massive bank or credit card charges.

It was a little cold, but I made it through to sunrise. I took some snaps of the truck and rushed off to see if the train was interesting. It was long, but not photogenic. I hung around outside for most of the morning, not wishing to disturb Attila. When he did get up, at 10.30, he treated me to pancakes and syrup (not maple, sadly). I showed him the photos on the computer, and we didn’t set off until nearer midday.

The truck has a 12V to mains convertor, so I was able to do lots of typing during the day. Even with this, though, I’m still several days behind.

When Attila offered to stop, I decided to jump out and take some snaps. However, I now don’t have enough snaps from the journey to make a separate album. Pity.

I went on with the diaries, though we listened to some more from the spoken book, about a gentleman who restores old houses, but gets thrown into jail accused of murdering a homosexual partner. I didn’t get much typing done, but at least I’m further on with my own tales - not so interesting, I might add.

When we refuelled, I was able to take a shower in the gas station. For lunch and evening meal, I ate my potato salad sandwiches. Attila admits he often eats junk food. “Sometimes I go into restaurants, but you get tired of that after a while. Sometimes I make my own sandwiches or meals to eat on the road, but then you need the company.”

As we approached Steinbach around 10.30p.m., I tried to call Hugo using the mobile phone. An answering machine replied. “I guess he’s gone to bed,” I thought, since a month-old baby is likely to deprive him of sleep later in the morning.

It was raining as we got to the junction. “I’ll take you into town,” Attila offered. On the way, I tried Hugo’s telephone number one more time. He was in! He had been on the internet earlier, hence the answering machine. We arranged to meet at the Safeway in Steinbach, which was conveniently on the road in from the Trans Canada. I bade farewell to Attila, and waited for Hugo in the shelter of the entranceway.

So, it was about 11.30 when I arrived at Ron and Wendy’s house. Ron is Pat’s brother, and they live next door. I was to stay with them, since I would get better sleep there, and anyway, Lorna, Pat’s sister, was staying in the spare room in Hugo’s house.

I briefly said hello, and was shown to a pleasantly decorated room upstairs.

The morning began with a long walk - perhaps ten kilometres round the Owen Sound bypass. Maybe I should have kept the Owen Sound sign up - to catch the commuters going into work. Still, I eventually got a lift up to Wiarton with a gentleman who worked in the hospital there. There were two more lifts, one on the back of a pick-up truck, to get to Tobermory, on the tip of the peninsula.

The lady in the information desk told me the next boat was in twenty-five minutes, and I had ample time to walk to the harbour. I stocked up on bread, potato salad and a 2 litre bottle of fizzy orange. In this weather, lubrication is essential. When I bought my ticket, the lady suggested that I go to the canteen to make an announcement to see if anyone was going towards Winnipeg. It is great that people in Canada are hitch-hiker friendly.

On the boat, I found a seat near some sockets, where I figured I could do some computing. The couple who sat opposite were quite chatty. They were going to a wedding in Ottawa. Maybe the social norms need to change. Parents pay for an expensive meal where they invite most of their distant relatives. “The first few weddings are great,” they said, “but weddings should be for couples and their friends.” I showed them some of the photos. Then I realised we were passing some interesting scenery. I left the computer with them, and went out for some snaps. I didn’t catch anything spectacular.

The couple offered to take me as far as Espanola, which is on the Trans Canada Highway, just across Manatoulin Island - the largest freshwater island in the world. I said I would try the announcement first. However, when I went down, someone started to inform drivers to return to their cars. I was too late.

Back upstairs, I met the couple as they were heading down, and they agreed to give me a lift. I gathered up my stuff, noticing that the couple had forgotten their camera. They were most relieved when I returned it to them. On the car deck, we paced up and down. There seemed to be no sign of their car. It turned out that we were on the lower deck, with the car one deck up!

So, we drove across Manatoulin. At one point, there was a queue for a bridge. I thought about jumping out and asking drivers if they were heading towards Winnipeg, but didn’t.

At Espanola, a strange gentleman stopped. As he did so, I noticed two other hitchhikers arriving. The gentleman claimed to own a large tract of forest near Massey, and probably did. “You don’t take drugs, don’t drink and aren’t married! What do you do for kicks?” Enjoying work must be such a strange concept to some.

The next lift took me to Blind River. I waved at the other two hitchers when I passed them. There was quite a wait for the next ride. There isn’t much traffic, and I only seem to get taken a few towns up the road. I’ve heard rumours of people getting stuck in Wawa for days!

A truck pulled over. It’s only the second truck to stop for me, so I was quite surprised. Attila, the Hungarian driver, could take me as far as Sioux-Sainte-Marie. Actually, this was a large articulated truck, but it only had a small trailer on the back. As we were approaching Sioux (pronounced “Soo”), I started writing out the next signs.

“I could take you on to Winnipeg, if you want,” Atilla offered. He was heading to Vancouver, and usually went through the States, since the highways are better. However, it is equally possible to take the Trans Canada highway. It was great. We listened to classical music on the CD player. The truck has a satellite communications system, but Attila had to provide his own CD player! Still, the blind Italian opera singer, Andrea Botelli, sang equally well through a CD to tape recorder adaptor.

A telephone call came through. Attila spoke only in Hungarian, but I sensed that something was the matter. “Well,” I consoled myself, “it’s just the way the cookie crumbles - he’s going to have to turn back for something.” I imagined the worse. Actually, it was a friend who wanted a lift f rom Toronto to Vancouver - but was too late. We chatted a bit about the Hungarian language for a while. Attila would like to learn French, he tells me.

I showed Attilla my selection of namecards. He held them in his hands, using his arms to control the wheel. He’s quite used to this - changing CDs, or operating his satellite communications while at the wheel. Attila offered to let me jump out and take some snaps. It was great scenery - the sun was setting over Lake Superior. I was worried I would be late for Hugo - I had said I would probably arrive on Thursday, or Wednesday if I was lucky, or perhaps even later - Friday or Saturday. So, I declined.

It’s a pity, for the sunset was wonderful. Actually, I hadn’t realised that people who appreciate photos like to feel a part of what I am doing. Perhaps, like Jerry from Glace Bay, people like to be around when a “masterpiece is being created,” as he said. Perhaps I shouldn’t have denied him the pride of saying, “Hey - that’s the photo Reggie took from my truck!”

I did take one photo in the evening sun - a self-portrait. However, I only took two snaps, and for some reason I look rather grim in the picture, so haven’t put it on the internet. Maybe I should put another section for self-portraits onto the internet.

We listened to a spoken book for a while. At one point a bear ran across the road in front of us, but it was too quick for my camera. I caught a little sleep, and I think we pulled over for the night around eleven p.m. I had the top bunk, but didn’t wish to unpack everything down to the sleeping bag, so just put on a sweater and several pairs of socks.

Breakfast was included in the 18$ price - excellent value. I was washed, computed, packed, and ready to hitch by ten. I asked the owner for some advice on hitching onto highway 6.

“You can’t hitch on the expressway,” he said. “Well, actually,” I responded, prefacing with the words that are supposed to allow a differing opinion into the conversation, “you can hitch on the ramps, but not on the road itself;” “Are you going to listen, or what?&quot. Woops, I wasn’t aware the guy was in such a rush - or perhaps his French-speaking origins denied him the knowledge of the rules of English conversation. I let him tell me the route, without confirming it. As it was a little complicated, of course I couldn’t remember it. He had done his duty of telling, not teaching.

Perhaps I walked a little longer than I needed. I bought plenty of drink, since it was a sizzling day. In the hostel, I had already begun to sweat, but outside, a pleasant breeze kept me cool without saturating my shirt. I had to walk several hours out of town. The casinos gave way to motels and campsites, all with their own swimming pools. I crossed a very narrow, deep gorge that looked as though it was man-made, but I guess it wasn’t - or perhaps it is the outflow from the hydro-electric dam.

I got a lift through to Binbrook, not quite realising that the highway 20 became highway 65 after Bismark. From Binbrook, the gentleman who stopped took me to Hamilton. He he was going to visit an art gallery there. When he had seen my photos on the namecards, he suggested that Ellis might like to see them as well. So I stopped in Hamilton.

The “art” was of the modern variety, sufficiently obtuse to require thought or preferably disapproval by the viewers. I only showed the quick selection to Ellis, but I felt that reality was too boring for them. “I went to Tornonto once. - Twenty years ago,” claimed Ellis. ” That was enough!”

A small group gathered. They were discussing the latest thefts from the gallery/coffee bar area - someone had swiped a microphone. I noted, though, that all his music was on home-recorded CDs. Somehow, that form of theft was fine, because it is stealing from the rich who have lots, and who can easily afford the loss, and won’t even miss it. My driver passed round the single cigarette. It was probably a drug. He was also drinking wine. I was a little concerned about his reaction times when we set off. Still, he took me to the junction of highways 6 and 5 without incident.

The next guy said he never drinks and drives. He always pulls over into Tim Hortons and sits down to drink his coffee. There were a number of short rides, each with a long break before the next. All the drivers offered to take me to the other side of town, where it would be easier to get a hitch. I think this is one of the reasons why I put Canada as the number one place to hitchhike in the world. People are familiar with hitching and willing to go a little bit out of their way for me.

I followed highway 6, town by town, up to Owen Sound. I stood in the dark, under a lamppost, for about an hour before deciding to find a spot to sleep.

I was up early - about 6.30. The Mexican guy started talking. I answered his questions, knowing that it would waken the Japanese guys.

It was only ten minutes walk to the bus station, I was told when I collected my 10$ deposit. I had only about twenty minutes, so grabbed the yoghurt pot from the fridge. I think someone had drunk some of my diluted orange juice - although I was quite thirsty on Saturday, and may have taken more than I remembered.

The bus was 24 dollars. Had I known the expense, I think I would have tried hitching. Still, I was able to eat my yoghurt and bran, and then type some more of the diaries.

By nine, I was at the hostel. Again I chose the alternative to the youth hostel. It was a house that has been converted into a hostel. I deposited my computer with the staff, who seemed friendly and helpful. Then I set off for the falls.

As usual, there are lots of snaps, mostly duplicates of the same scene. Sometimes I had to wait ages until there were no people in the viewfinder. There were watchtowers, viewing galleries, boats into the mist - all of which I missed. They didn’t seem worth the expense. The watchtower would give just a few new angles, but the same as all other photographers. The folks who took the boat and the lower viewing gallery were all wearing galoshes. I reckoned I wouldn’t get any better photos from those angles.

At one point, I wanted to catch people watching the falls. However, it was too difficult. Most were taking photos of themselves in front of the falls, whereas I want everyone to be displaying an appreciation of the sight.

I wonder why people want the “me at…” photos. Do they think that they add to the beauty of the scene? Or do they worry that others will assume they have just stolen a printed photograph of a place they never visited, unless the photos prove without doubt their presence. These days, “purikura” in Japan (Print Shop photos) can give backgrounds from anywhere in the world, so I don’t think the latter reason can be considered valid any more. I was back at the hostel at two, but the door was locked. I went in search of a supermarket. This part of Niagara seems very run down. Even the shops that are open had signs out saying “Yes, we ARE open.” Many of the stores were empty. Some of them had signs in Hangul (Korean) and English. Perhaps business is tough in this part of town. I found some bread and cheese at one store almost half an hour away.

There was plenty of room at the hostel. It seems it is the owner’s house, with the top attic converted into several crammed rooms of beds - single, not bunks. There was a common lounge area. I chatted to some Japanese folks and a Finnish lady. A couple offered a lift to the supermarket, but I wished to continue with my typing. I spent most of the rest of the day on the computer - either showing the pictures or catching up with some of the tales. The hostel owner recommended the evening photos. I had only seen a few night postcards, and was feeling tired, so I didn’t go.

This was my day off from the photography. I took the subway to Uncle Douglas’s house, and spent most of the time catching up on the diaries, and sorting out the Toronto snaps. This meant that I sat on my own for a while. So, I tried to ensure that there was some time to chat.

I had thought about going for a quiet walk in the afternoon, but it began raining, and a thunderstorm passed over. Jamie came round, and did some work on his research. When I had sorted out all the photos, he was most helpful in ensuring that each photo had the correct title. Sometimes I thought we were being a little pedantic - especially since I don’t have much space for each photo.

I was given some advice for hitching. I’ll take the bus to Niagara tomorrow. When I leave, I’ll take highway 6 rather than the 401.

Back at the hostel with the computer, I typed my diaries for a while. A Mexican guy in the same dorm was impressed, but I was quite busy. I didn’t stop until late, but two Japanese guys came in later and were talking loudly for some time. It seemed unusual for Japanese people.