Left in the Parking Lot while the Crew Finds New Wheels

Oh. Hey there. Just me… Harvey the RV here, resting my tires while the engine block cools down.

When you spend months hauling a family across Canada from British Columbia to Newfoundland, you start to think you are the main event. I mean, after all, I have my own website, don’t I?

So when we pulled into the Marine Atlantic ferry terminal at North Sydney, Nova Scotia, my grill felt a bit out of joint. I had known this day would come. They had been talking about it since making reservations back in November. Even so, I was a little unnerved when they parked my thirty feet of fiberglass down in the dark belly of a giant steel vessel, in amongst all the other RVs and 18-wheelers, and went topside without me. I sat in the lower hold for hours, listening to the thrum of ship engines, feeling like I had been demoted somehow.

And that was hardly the only time. Over the months of travel, my steering wheel sat idle more times than you’d think while my crew found every other vehicle imaginable.

In Québec City, the crew took a shuttle from the campsite to the Lévis ferry across the St. Lawrence River and stepped onto the cliffside funicular… 45 degrees straight up! Later, they boarded open-top double-decker buses to explore the old streets. How’s a guy like me to compete with that?

So many kind friends and family made space for us (some friendly strangers too) and gave my old extra weight a break, and toured my crew around their parts of Canada… showing my GrandRaiser crew things I never could. For that we’re all very grateful.

In Halifax, Nova Scotia, they borrowed a family car and rode city buses around town. They even took a cab from Dartmouth in time to witness the noon canon at the Citadel. They then jumped onto the Harbour Hopper, an amphibious tour vehicle that drove off the asphalt and splashed straight into the ocean harbour. Honestly, I didn’t believe it was possible until they showed me the video.

Sidelined at Tobermory and the Maritimes

Out on the water, the adventures kept multiplying. In the Bay of Fundy, they put on wetsuits and climbed into a bouncing rigid-hull Zodiac boat for whale watching. In PEI, they boarded the Northumberland Ferry to cross into Nova Scotia (a happy mistake, thanks to Google Maps). Up at Manitoulin Island, Ontario, they loaded me onto the MS Chi-Cheemaun ferry to cross Georgian Bay toward Tobermory.

The First Mate kayaked along the shores of Lake Superior as loons called out and mosquitoes hovered, and the crew enjoyed kayaking on Long Lake in Nova Scotia. That was one of the times I was boondocking lakeshore and could watch all the action, including the First Mate riding a Sea-Doo and driving a quad. Speaking of quads my entire crew was pulled behind one in a trailer at a ranch somewhere in Saskatchewan. You can read more about that adventure here…

Harvey Realizes his Flagship Role

Whenever I am parked at a campsite or a driveway, my steering wheel stayed quiet but I still carefully watch over my GrandRaiser crew. Sometimes the rear rack came unlocked, and off went the bicycles again. The First Mate often pulls his scooter out of the lower storage bay to zip along paved campground loops.

The crew sunbathed, swam, and the First Mate even steered a pontoon boat in Muskoka, alongside several local marine tour vessels…. including an exhilarating boat ride in the frothing misty waters below Niagara Falls.

In cities like Ottawa and Toronto, Charlottetown and Halifax, my keys stayed on the hook while the crew took off on city buses, subways, light rail trains, taxis, and Ubers.

You know, I have to say, for an old guy, I’ve had it pretty good these past months. So far we’ve put on almost 13,000 km, and they never push me. They decked me out with some sweet new tires and keep my windshield shiny and bright, and my tummy full. Even so, I’ve spent plenty of warm afternoons in the shade, watching other rigs come and go, feeling like an old motorhome being sidelined.

Being a GrandRaiser team means picking the right tool for the job when you have an active nine-year-old crew member who wants to experience every trail and waterway in the country. I am not being replaced. A 25-year-old motorhome cannot scale a 45-degree cliffside rail or zip across open water at forty knots.

I mean, they may think I can’t… but I hear them as they tuck in each night, and my Skipper sighs happily, “I love Harvey.”

I am their flagship after all.

Well dearest readers, that’s it for me today, thanks for reading.
Love, Harvey