Summer had arrived. First the Solstice and then la Fête nationale du Québec, St. Jean Baptiste. Friday, June 23, was the start of a long weekend.
We were off to Paris for a family reunion, not the Paris that requires a transatlantic flight but rather the lovely (ever-expanding town) of Paris, Ontario. Paris is located about 40 minutes south of where my daughter Saskia and her family reside in Burlington, Ontario. Perfect, we would have a visit with the Moraghans and my husband Steve would have the pleasure of finally meeting his second granddaughter, Molly, who had just turned 8 months.
As it was, in the planning for the reunion, we were invited to our grandson Carter’s Grade 8 graduation in Amherstview near Kingston on June 26th. A hat-trick, or so we thought!
Part One – Getting there
While a long weekend in Quebec, we did not think at all that St. Jean would have any impact on our travel in Ontario, but alas, we were to discover it would.
Greta, our electric Kona was fully charged and ready for the journey. Friends Anna and Hilary were keeping an eye on the house and dog. The garden watered, we set off, planning to travel Highway 7 and avoid the intensity of the 401. This was a route we knew well as we had spent many years travelling from Ottawa to Peterborough to visit my parents.
The road was good, the traffic was light. We passed Silver Lake and saw a few picnickers enjoying lunch. Not long after nearing the junction of highways 7 and 41 in Kaladar, we were shocked to see the woodsy landscape transformed as far as the eyes could see. So many beautiful big trees and so much bush ripped and uprooted from the ground as a result of the 2022 Derecho. We felt like we were driving through a wasteland. I remember reading about this last summer, but seeing the damage was a stark reminder of the devastating toll taken on all in the path of this windstorm.
Greta hummed along and we thought we would have a quick stop in Norwood (charging station right off Hwy 7) to get her charged up to complete the journey to Burlington. This was not to be. Despite having installed various apps in advance of the trip, there was no promising click and charge forthcoming. So, we did what he had done two years earlier on our inaugural voyage in the EV, we called the service number on the machine hoping to see what the problem was and what needed to be done to fix it. It was very, very hot as we sat in the car trying to hear the agent on the end of the line over the din of the traffic. Suffice to say, this was an effort in frustration and in the end, the agents’ parting words were, “we actually just deliver the charging stations and someone else is responsible for maintenance.” At this point Steve lost all sang froid and expressed our ever-increasing frustration. Then he hung up!
The next reasonable hope for a functioning charging station was Peterborough, where the app indicated several stations were available. Now for those who drive an EV in Ontario, you will know that charging stations are often at the back and beyond of a mall, of a car dealership, of a community centre. It ain’t easy. Somewhat like a scavenger hunt but the stakes are high! Stations are well camouflaged, unmarked, often blocked by other vehicles or equipment and very few in number outside of urban areas.
After leaving Norwood, I tried the emergency customer services line that was supposed to serve people using a “network” of charging stations, for which we had the app. On hold for ages, I finally spoke to a customer service agent. I explained our situation and Steve piped in, in what shall we say was very irate language, voicing our frustration and asking if there was any issue with the various stations in Peterborough. The guy did not hang up. This guy was a gem. He told us that in view of the St. Jean holiday (what?), there were only two customer service representatives for this network responding to customers across Canada! Again, what?! But here is what restores one’s faith in humanity.
This fellow stayed on the phone with us for 20 minutes despite being only one of two agents working and with, I was sure, other calls mounting. He directed us to one station (only a slow charger) and then to another one where there were two fast-charging non-Tesla stations in front of the mall which we could use. He waited while Steve connected thru the app and heard the welcome hum of the car charging. He was awesome and I hope there was a customer service recording and he gets a raise out of it. Exemplary.
The rest of the journey was smooth. We took the last lap on the 407 (paid highway but could not face the 401 on a Friday night) and arrived happily in Burlington. We could relax and enjoy the Moraghan clan.
Part Two – Hoogendyke Family Reunion
My father William (Bill) was born in Bjelosersk, Russia, the third of 8 children born to Anton Hoogendyke (Hoogendijk) and Gertrude Johanna Meyer. Anton was a Dutch mercantilist from Amsterdam, who in the early 1900s worked in the lumber trade in Russia along with his brother Wilhelm.
Anton met his wife Gertrude, an aristocrat of German origin, in Archangel, the largest timber-exporting port of Russia located on the banks of the Northern Dvina River near its mouth on the White Sea. The Meyers came from Hamburg and several generations worked in the lumber business. Gertrude’s father, Wilhelm Johannes Meyer was a man of wealth and knowledge who became the German Consul in Archangel.
Five years after my father’s birth the Russian Revolution broke out and my grandparents and family fled Archangel on the last British troop ship leaving Archangel to take up residence in Haarlem, the Netherlands.
There is so much fascinating family lore that I could write a novel. For the purposes of this story, I will simply say that in the mid-1920s my grandparents emigrated to Canada and while they originally planned to go to the Peace River region of B.C., plans changed and they ended up in Simcoe, Ontario. Many of my relatives live in and around Simcoe and Southern Ontario and it was fitting, that the 2023 reunion would be held there.
Unlike my husband and those who grew up knowing their cousins and spending family occasions together, I knew few of my cousins and had only a passing acquaintance with them given that for the greater part of my youth, I lived overseas and only returned to Canada to attend university.
What a surprise it was in April of this year to get an email via the Wandering Wakefield blog from my cousin Paul Van de Kamer. Paul had read my blog on my brother Guy’s passing in 2021. An email led to a chat on the phone and a promise to keep in touch from time to time. Not long after my cousin Jenny, Paul’s youngest sister, sent out with an email invitation to the grandchildren of Anton and Gertrude to a family reunion in Paris, Ontario on June 24th. I was happy to reply affirmatively.
And it was great! I immediately noted the resemblance of family members as we all gathered Saturday morning in lovely Lions Park under a covered pavilion. So well organized with the various clans bringing salads and desserts. Were we 40 or more? I don’t know exactly but everyone had name tags and we all chatted informally and looked at the various photo albums which belonged to my Aunt Jenny, Jenny and Paul’s mother, along with a fascinating family chronology. Paul took on the role of M.C. inviting the youngest member of each line to bring everyone up to speed with a few words on themselves, their siblings and children.
Just before the presentations began, my daughter arrived with her children and I was so pleased she was able to join with a few other great-grandchildren in attendance. Danika, Connor and Molly, Saskia’s troika were the only great-great grandchildren present. As the speeches commenced, Saskia thought she would keep the kids quiet and set off to the lovely play structure across the field. I had warned her about a dark cloud looming but she thought she could beat it. No sooner had she gone half way to the playground but the heaven’s opened and the rain poured down! Saskia and the kids were drenched. Saskia smiled sheepishly and the children were giggling happily as they splashed about soaked by the summer rain.
I was so glad to be part of this event, to connect with my relatives. A parting gift was a package from a cousin containing pages of research and details of the Hoogendijks and Meyers dating back to the 1800s. From coachmen to aristocrats, marriage and divorce, war and peace, a marvellous chronicle of my ancestors.
A happy reunion with promises to keep in touch.
Part Three – Graduation and the long way home
Sunday, a day of rest. No driving. We spent a lazy Sunday afternoon poolside in the beautiful backyard oasis of Saskia’s in-laws, and ended the day with the crème de la crème of ice cream from Creme de la Creme Creamery on the beautiful Burlington’s waterfront.
“Monday, Monday,” sang the Mamas and the Papas, “can’t trust that day.” It was not long before we found out what a truism that is.
Steve had charged up the car and Saskia had checked the traffic situation on the 401. Yay Google Maps. She advised us to take the 407 until past the 400 exit to avoid a major slow-down due to construction. Off we went.
We had 6 hours to make the 3 hour trip to Amherstview. Lots of time. We sailed along until by mistake we saw a sign for the 401 and exited one ramp too early. We were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and it was slow going. Road repairs and fewer lanes and oh, so many trucks. Ugh!
Finally, just past the Yonge Street exit, we got up to speed until we hit another big slow-down near the Port Hope exit. We made a quick decision to take the back roads. Our meanderings took us past the lovely campus of Trinity College School and towards Lake Ontario and Highway 2. We stopped to charge Greta at (you guessed it) a car dealership. It was coming on 1 p.m. and we thought we had plenty of time to get to Fairfield Elementary for Carter’s graduation at 5 p.m. It was slow going as speed limits are reduced as you pass through one town or residential area after another and construction seemed to be ongoing everywhere. We decided to take the Loyalist Parkway (Hwy 33) as it would take us through the scenic and popular wine district of Prince Edward County. What we did not know was that by so doing we would eventually need to cross the Bay of Quinte.
Through hamlets and past wineries, the hours were ticking by. When we got to Picton, it was 3:30 p.m. Construction in Picton and a detour heading to Highway 2 and the 401, we decided to carry on the Loyalist Parkway. We ended up at the water’s edge in a lineup for the Glenora ferry! Time was now of essence…Steve turned around. 15 minutes wasted.
We went back to Picton, through the detour and back on to Highway 2 which Google Maps said would take was to take us right to Amherstview. Another hurdle, the Skyway bridge was under construction and down to one lane. The traffic lights were at the top of the bridge following a steep incline. By now, we were anxious. The sky was pitch black to the west with thunder and lightning seeming to come ever nearer. We had a red light at the top of the bridge. For what seemed an interminably long and fearful time, we waited till we could make our descent and carry on.
By then, we were texting family to say we would likely be late. It was well after 4 p.m. and we were 40 plus minutes away. Keegen our oldest grandson and Carter’s brother encouragingly said he had faith we would be there on time. We had our doubts. GPS got us to our destination at 5:05. We entered the school, were given a program and actually came eye to eye with Carter as his graduating class was getting ready to make the processional into the gym. Whew, we had only missed O Canada and the land acknowledgement. We settled in to our seats to watch Carter receive his diploma and the mathematics medal for highest GPA. A proud moment. We took some pictures (he looked so spiffy and so tall in his suit), said our goodbyes and set out to find a charging station for the final leg home.
Monday night, 6 p.m. in Kingston, most businesses were closed. It had begun to rain. We were weary. After a few tries, we found our way past a zillion gas stations to finally find another fast charging station behind a car dealership. A half hour charging in the pouring rain and we thought we had enough juice (340 kms) to make it home.
We got on the hateful 401 with all the trucks and traffic heading to Montreal and beyond. We were happy to make the turnoff on to the 416 to Ottawa where traffic was not so intense. As we drove, the skies darkened and darkened. Thunder crashed, lightning zigzagged across the western sky where the sun had almost set. Our son Scott, Carter’s dad, ahead of us by an hour, messaged us to say we would be coming into heavy rain. By the time we reached Merrickville, the skies were black and torrential blinding rain descended. It was terrifying. We sat forward in our seats trying to drive safely on. Steve turned off the highway thinking a side road might be better. It wasn’t. Two lanes and lights coming at us, not sure on which side of the road the cars were on, we circled back to the 416. We were not just tired but stressed to the max as we drove through what seemed like the apocalypse.
Thankfully, we made it to the 417 and the city lights improved visibility as the intense rains began to taper off a little. As we neared the Portage Bridge, our odometer showed we only had 84 kms left. Highway driving expends electricity quickly. The kms had been steadily dropping and we didn’t know if we would make it home without another charge.
Exhausted at 10 p.m., we pulled into the IGA parking lot at Farm Point and plugged in to the fast charger. We were spent. We sat in the car as rain fell and thunder rumbled in the distance. Truly, a long day’s journey into night.
Journey’s end – Lascelles, Cedar Lane and home sweet home. We fell into bed, ever so glad to be safely home. Oh Monday, Monday.
Wandering Wakefield 