Day 45. Now the Breakdown

Day 45 ends on an empty concrete parking lot just off the Trans-Canada Highway, with Harvey the RV out of action. The nearest town is about ten miles away and it's just us here - unless this is a late night truckers' pad, and I rather hope it isn't. I might sleep lightly tonight.

It was raining heavily when we woke up, so rather than a hike and a swim, we headed south. We kept going all the way out of the Cape Breton Highlands, and had a quaint diversion via car ferry to Englishtown, a tiny village famous for being the birthplace of the world's tallest ever "natural" giant. Angus MacAskill lived from 1825 to 1863, reaching 7'9". We saw his suit, his chair, his bed frame, old photos, and rather sweet testimonials describing how this real-life gentle giant used to help the fishermen haul their boats on shore.

What intrigued me most came by-the-way - a faded piece of paper tacked to the wall describing the life of Anna Swan, the "giantess of Nova Scotia", about twenty years younger than MacAskill, who actually reached 7' 11". But no photos marking her life - intriguing.

Anyhow.. the main event of the day... it kept raining, Richard kept driving. Across the causeway from Cape Breton and heading towards Halifax, Nova Scotia. 185 miles in, travelling fast down the highway, I was playing a card game with Tom, and Richard said quietly, "it's happening again". "It" was the wobble that we'd felt way back on the eve of my visa interview in Montreal - feels like a life ago - that was the 12th July. And just as he said that, I felt it too, the RV's rhythm was all wrong. We were at a motorway exit, and as we took it, the thumping got worse, and we both felt this was going to end badly.

We rounded the corner off the motorway, and there was a large smooth expanse of tarmac, big enough for forty cars, but completely empty. As we pulled off, there was a banging and a crunching, and bits of steel
fell from the bottom of the RV. We weren't going anywhere further.

So, here we are. Perhaps there has to be a downside after such a sweet few days.

The upside is that the GMC community hangs together. Richard has what's called a "blacklist" of owners - that's a good thing, it's an informal network of GMC enthusiasts all ready to offer advice and more. Two live in Nova Scotia. Amazingly, we have a phone signal in this empty bit of countryside. Amazingly, they both answered (it's a tribute to Canadian courtesy that one mobile phone was answered by the wife, who was driving in convoy, flashed her lights to get her husband to pull over, and he then took our call.) Thankfully, our new friends Richard from Antigonish and Paul & Nancy from Halifax have both offered to help us. One has parts, one has technical know-how, and may, just may, be in a position to replace what's broken.

There's a lot to sort out. Tomorrow morning, we need to get a taxi, go to a car hire place, find the RV parts (probably from Halifax, 90 miles away), then either get a mechanic to come to Harvey here in the middle of nowhere, or work out how to tow our 26 foot vintage RV safely to the city. Oh, and call the insurance people.

And I hope it stays quiet and peaceful here tonight, in this totally dark and empty parking lot.

Tom is oblivious and asleep. We're somewhat on tenterhooks- but it helps a lot, an awful lot, knowing there are people of goodwill out there already on our side.