Having just returned from a two-week road trip with the kids from Ontario to the Maritimes, here is a list of things I’d recommend to do that both kids and parents will appreciate:
Stop in Quebec City on the way and spend a day in Old Quebec. Founded in 1608 by Samuel Champlain, this beautiful old city still boasts relics from its early days, including cobblestone streets and buildings aged in the hundreds. Visit the museum, eat crepes, shop the artisan market and a day is quickly filled.
See Hopewell Rocks on the Bay of Fundy by Moncton, New Brunswick. The kids will love to walk on the squishy dirt that was, only hours earlier, covered by ocean. Wear flip flops or crocks for easy cleaning… They’ll get dirty!
Drive your car up a hill backwards at Magnetic Hill in Moncton, New Brunswick. This will take about fifteen minutes to do, so don’t plan your day around it – unless you wish to hang out at the adjoining amusement park and zoo. We did not.
Visit Mahone Bay and Lunenburg in Nova Scotia to see authentic Maritime living. We visited both on one day trip, travelling from a resort called White Point in Liverpool.
Buy lobsters off a boat. This may not be available every province you visit, so find out lobster season in advance for each region. We finally found boatloads of them in Cape Breton.
Cook your own lobster. It’s easier than you’d ever imagine and more gastronomically satisfying than buying them already cooked.
Eat lots and lots of mussels. And learn how to cook these, too (add white wine and garlic for a sensational flavour.)
Go whale watching in Cape Breton.
Drive along the Cabot Trail, and better yet, stay in a resort or B&B along the trail for a truly rustic vacation. I’d recommend the Celtic Lodge (higher end) or Glenghorm (the more digs in which we stayed for four days.)
Sit by a bonfire twenty feet from the ocean.
Attend a lobster supper in PEI. We joined hundreds of other hungry diners at the New Glasgow Lobster Suppers, crammed inside the church hall for a sumptuous meal that included a pound of lobster each, all you can eat mussels, clam chowder, salads, boiled potatoes, and dessert for an incredible $30. (Kids menu also available.)
Walk the red beaches in PEI with the kids and swim in the warm ocean water (while dodging jellyfish.)
Visit every art gallery, pottery store, and gift shop you pass - there are treasures to be found among the hundreds of Maritime artisans.
Dig for clams in PEI, then cook’em up and eat’em. (Okay, we didn’t do this… couldn’t fathom dragging three boys in the blistering heat to dig in hot sand for something they might not want to eat later.)
Join a fisherman for a trip out on a boat. My husband and ten-year-old son joined a fishing boat in PEI and each caught mackerel and cod that we later seared for a true fisherman’s dinner.
Drive back to Ontario through a different route. We drove to the Maine border and stayed overnight in Freeport. Back in the land of commercialism, we embraced the outlet stores and added a few more “souvenirs” to our collection.
We left on July 1st to travel from Toronto to the Maritimes (excluding Newfoundland) and returned home July 18th. Me, my husband, and three boys spend countless hours sharing accommodations that ranged from our cozy minivan to two-bedroom cabins. Our vehicle traveled over 6000 km, through four provinces, and two states. And, it was the first time we’d visited a part of Canada further east than Quebec City (we stopped there, too, along the way.) Here are some of my observations.
The beaches are beautiful, but the best ones are in PEI.
Hotels don’t provide a good cup of coffee and the Maritimes don’t have Tim Hortons at every corner (much less Starbucks!) If you’re a sucker for the good stuff, pack your own coffee maker and beans (or a kettle and quality instant coffee.)
There is such a thing as McLobster (we didn’t try it, though.)
One map is never enough. Collect as many as you can along the way.
When the kids’ electronic toys are banned in the car because of bad behaviour, the parents suffer most.
Don’t travel out east for the great weather.
You won’t find a guy named Mac selling seafood out of his van off the highway. In the Maritimes, it actually comes right off the boat.
There is a lobster season for every province. So, if eating lobster is a goal, find out the season dates and travel accordingly. We missed it in Nova Scotia, but found it in Cape Breton and PEI.
Sure, Maritimers are friendly, but no friendlier than anyone else in Canada.
Restaurant food is usually crappier than home made food, and a whole lot pricier – unless you’re ordering fresh seafood in the Maritimes.
Kids CAN eat hotdogs every day for two weeks and never get sick of it.
Quebec City really does not celebrate Canada Day! We arrived there on July 1st and were promptly told by the hotel staff that there were no festivities. So much for our Canada shirts.
The least commercial place on the planet has to be Cape Breton. It’s the best place to embrace the beauty of nature.
Canada should do everything they can to protect the livelihood of their Maritime fishermen.
Hotels and resorts never provide cutting boards. Pack a small one on your next road trip.
Whether you scream in a whisper or a loud voice (at your kids), you still get a sore throat.
The Maritimes isn’t about enjoying luxury accommodations, it’s about appreciating the luxury of nature.
Canada is a beautiful country and worth exploring.
Thinking of getting a roof top carrier for your vehicle? It’s a wise investment for any travelling family. Whether you’re lugging ski equipment for a two hour drive to the slopes or cruising the minivan from Edmonton to Sudbury, eliminating unnecessary luggage from the inside of the vehicle is a boon to all passengers. As one seasoned car packer (my husband) once mused: “a perfectly packed car means that only those things that you need access to, are in the seating area.” Choosing the perfect carrier, however, can be a difficult task. Here are some factors to consider while researching the choices out there:
Familiarize yourself with the three main types of carriers.
The cargo box – a very popular choice – is comprised of a hard shell and can cost up to $1,000. To maximize its efficiency a set of bags that fit snugly within the compartment are available to purchase, so that no space is wasted.
The cargo basket is a metal basket that sits on the roof and can be filled with an array of parcels and bags. It provides travellers a bit more flexibility than a box because items don’t have to conform to a particular shape and is similarly priced to most boxes. The luggage can be roped in manually or held firm with netting made specifically for the basket.
The cargo bag is made of canvas and is collapsible when not in use, making it easy to stow away. An added benefit is that this carrier won’t dent, or worse, become lodged should the driver accidentally enter an underground parking garage with a full load on top. They are the most economical choice of all the carriers but are less durable.
Consider your family’s personal needs.
This cargo carrier may last for decades, so think about how your children’s travelling needs may evolve over the years. Don’t base the purchase decision solely on the one major road trip the family undertakes every year. Also think about the shorter distances driven for various reasons throughout the year such as for hockey tournaments, ski weekends, cottage stays, or camping. Even though they are less packing-intensive than a long road trip requires, the more luggage that can be stowed on top for any length of drive, the greater the comfort for passengers inside.
Think about what types of activities you foresee your family enjoying as the kids grow older. Are camping excursions in the horizon? Skiing? More road trips to visit the In-laws?
Consider the pressures of every season. Some winter sports, such as skiing, require a lot of space and families may want to buy a carrier that is long enough to fit them. If bicycling is a cherished family outing then perhaps the carrier should be narrow enough to allow a second rack for bicycles, too. In Canada, every season is as unpredictable as the one before and after it. Summer days can range from blistering heat to rainstorms. And winters can be cold and dry or a never ending tribute to the power of the shovel. This means the Canadian roadtripper has to be prepared for every kind of driving condition, and this should also be factored into the purchasing decision (and therefore, may make the basket an impractical choice for winter driving.)
When my husband and I decided to purchase a Thule rooftop carrier, our kids were very young. Because the main purpose of the carrier was to accommodate our luggage during the long road trips from Toronto to Florida, we could have purchased a small cargobox for a reasonable price. However, Ted and I planned to introduce the kids to skiing eventually and decided, therefore, to buy the longest Thule carrier available to fit the skis we hoped we would be lugging. Last winter we drove to Ellicottville for our first ski vacation. While the kids found plenty of reasons to squabble and complain during the drive, not one of them whined about the lack of space. All the ski equipment was packed on top.
A few years ago, we were on our way back to Toronto after ten days vacationing in Indian Shores, Florida. During that time, our kids grew increasingly vulgar as tends to happen when three boys spend uninterrupted leisure time together.
“There will be no more talk about farts, burps, poo, pee or anything else that in any way relates to the toilet,” I lectured the boys. With my head twisted to face the back of the minivan, I looked each of my sons in the eye to ensure that they knew I meant business.
“Yes, Mom,” they replied between snickers before I turned my head back to face the front window.
“Did you hear your mom?” Ted’s voice boomed as he glanced at his rear view mirror. “No more rude talk.”
We’d tolerated the constant references to private body parts and their excrements for long enough. Now that we were heading back to our every day lives, Ted and I wanted a semblance of decorum returned to our family. Throughout the vacation, their potty jabber replayed like a slew of infomercials. Irritating, yet surprisingly amusing at times.
Although I’d just delivered my umpteenth lecture, it seemed to have finally resonated with the boys – at least for the time being. They settled into quiet activities. Shortly afterward, we pulled off to an exit to find somewhere to eat. The stash of prepared foods was dwindling, so we reviewed the usual selection of fast food restaurants that dotted the road trippers’ landscape. McDonald’s was selected. Ted and I figured, at the very least, the Happy Meal toys would offer the kids a brief period of pleasure when we returned to the minivan.
As we entered the restaurant, I reminded the boys to show manners and refrain from the usual gastrointestinal stunts and sounds. They nodded their heads, stifling giggles. Ted brought the Happy Meals to the table and, as always, the kids reached first for the toy. They all received the same thing. A Shrek figure with a button on its chest that, when pushed, emitted an exclamation “I’m an ogre!” followed by a harrowing belch. The irony was not lost on any of us. But the hope of enforcing a toilet talk ban for the remainder of the car ride was lost for good.
In our household, the packing duties are divided between me and my husband with the rigidity of a 1950’s household. He is responsible for the heavy lifting and strategic positioning of our “stuff” in the minivan. I’m the gatherer. I assess the needs of the family members then collect fragments from every corner of our abode until a miniaturized version of our household is assembled upon the floor in the front hallway.
Rarely do these two roles intersect. And while our “Me Tarzan, You Jane” separation of duties can be a source of strife in many aspects of a relationship, it actually works well in the context of preparing for a road trip. For one thing, it prevents fighting. And when a family is about to embark on a long drive together in a small, confined space, it’s not ideal to start the trip with a cloud of resentment hovering over the front seat of the car.
Our ritual is simple. On the date of departure (or the day before, if we’re leaving before dawn), I review my checklists and slowly build an arsenal of necessities for the trip. I’m in the zone – gliding from drawer to cupboard to closet. I can practically hear Snow White whistle while I work. If Ted suddenly wanders into my zone with his comments or questions, I cringe.
“Did you pack the camera?”
“When will you be done?”
“Don’t forget the passports. Did you print the map?”
“Please let me do this,” I’ll reply through a forced smile. Or I’ll send him off to grab a few things for me. Either response tends to elicit a quick withdrawal of his presence.
Generally, Ted understands why I want my solitude. After all, he does not want me in his way when it’s time to pack the car. If anything, his intrusions are less about a desire to help me, and more a desire to move into the next stage – filling the car. Our established routine took years to define. I used to load suitcases into the car, thinking I was being helpful. Ted would then proceed to pull everything out, shaking his head with a laugh.
“That’s not how you pack a car,” he’d chide me as I stood beside him, bewildered.
I still don’t know the secret to car packing. Whether men trade clandestine tips about how to get the most space out of a vehicle, or they are hardwired at birth to excel at this role, I don’t know. But I’ve learned to let him do it the way he wants. No matter how much he curses and huffs and puffs with frustration – it’s best to not interfere. That’s all part of the process. And, keeping the peace is as much a goal as readying the car to leave. Anger can take up a lot of space in small quarters, too.
Having just returned from a two-week road trip with the kids from Ontario to the Maritimes, here is a list of things I’d recommend to do that both kids and parents will appreciate:
