Disaster strikes the Defender
I decided to make it as far towards Quebec City as I could Monday, and finally settled on a camp near Beaupre called St. Anne of the Mountains. The brief description in the camping books I had read sounded interesting. As it turns out, it was quite an upscale place, the best near Quebec City I was to learn. The tenting area where I stayed, a distance from the RV sites, was completely empty except for us. The rest facility for the tenting area had a section for Femmes (women), Hommes (men), and even a big red fire hydrant that, considering that the only structure around was the small rest facility, i swear must have been put there for the upscale chiens (dogs) camping there.
After I broke camp in the morning, I did my usual inspection of the campsite to make sure I did not leave anything behind there and was leaving the place in at least as good condition as I found it. I then picked up my bathroom kit from the picnic table, got into the Defender, and headed for the rest room to shower, navigating carefully around the the chien's fire hydrant before parking. Twenty minutes later, as I readied to set off again, I realized that that the nylon bag for my wet washcloth was missing, probably dropped as I picked up my bathroom kit from the picnic table at my campsite. More concerned about leaving the campsite with litter than about the bag, instead of driving forward out f the camp, I put the car in reverse and started to back up to go back to my campsite, not remembering the fire hydrant. CRUNCH. Unfortunately, the arm of the hydrant was the height of my rear right lights and it took a toll on the Defender. (See phoyo elsewhere.) This was the first dent ever in the Defender, now 18 years old, and my first car damage in 33 years. However, this was my own fault, and it could have been much worse, much worse. The damage just missed the fuel lines and left the light bulbs still functional. Also, the hydrant was undamaged. At a NAPA store 20 miles down the road I was able to buy a red light cover and so I don't have to worry about not having a rear right brake light for the trip home. (On Tuesday, I found a local garage that is fixing the damage to the body.)
After my interim repair job, I was on my way again. After navigating through traffic from Quebec City to Montreal, I arrived at St Jovite, 60 miles northwest of Montreal, at 7:00, only to find that it no longer existed. Since my last visit here in 2003, th picturesque little village merged with Mont Tremblant, the huge ski resort nearby. (This is where Natasha Richardson died several years ago.). I first came to Mt Tremblant in 1973, and returned every year 1990-1999 with my dogs I have nothing but fond memories of the place, as it was as a small sleepy ski place in 1973 and as a major, world-class resort sine 1995. I just wanted to stop here for a few days and bask in the fond memories before continuing my trip. And so, that's where I am now, with my friend Andre Latour and his friend Francine, and francine's brother Daniel, all consummate dog lovers.
I will get my Defender back from the shop on Wednesday, when I will drop the dogs off at a groomer for a bath. I will spend the day organizing for the next and last leg of this trip, to the wilds of Ontario and Thunder Bay. There is a road north from there that goes as far north in Ontario as on can drive,to Armstrong Station, and so we will take it. After a few days at Lake Bukemiga near there, we will point the Defender in the direction of DC and head southeast. It is hoped that the temperature there will be 20 degrees less than when we left in August.
So, last night, tonight and tomorrow night, we are enjoying a well-deserved respite from the road at Mt Tremblant. I could not have thought of a better place to take uch a break from the road. But I am anxious to get back on the road again.
Ed
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