Wednesday, October 25, 2023: The last days in Canada!
Info:
Halifax is Canada’s largest city on the Atlantic with around 480,000 people in the metropolitan region, 350,000 of whom live in the city. The most famous sight is the citadel dating from 1749, which also offers a panoramic view of the city and the harbor.
My opinion:
I wanted to have a look at the city, because Halifax has colorful streets with nice street cafés … But things turned out differently. It got really exciting once again.
Diary:
I had booked a hotel room for the last four days in Canada because I wanted to prepare Annie Way for the trip. I was also curious about Halifax.
As already mentioned in the report on Nova Scotia, on Saturday, October 21, 450 m from the hotel and about two kilometers from the port, the red oil control light came on and I parked Annie Way on the side of the road. “Maximum oil quantity exceeded,” the computer explained.
I marched to the hotel with my suitcase and thought about what I could do. It was already late afternoon, and I had time until Monday at 11:00 a.m. to deliver Annie Way to the port so that she could sail on the Atlantic Star on Wednesday, October 25.
Annie Way was doubly covered as far as towing services were concerned, namely by the premium insurance that I had taken out for her for North America, and by ÖAMTC, whose membership also applies in Canada and the USA.
On Sunday I called the number that was responsible for towing the car according to the insurance contract. I probably didn’t answer the computer’s questions in a way that the thing understood me, so it kicked me off the line. Three times.
Then AAA, the North American ÖAMTC. Same thing. But at least I got a little further before I was thrown off the line.
Off to reception, where I interrupted a nice young man playing a computer game. I explained my situation to him and that I wasn’t able to communicate with the computer in such a way that I could get a result.
He dialed the number with the hotel phone and said “Yes” and “No” several times, then handed me the phone and I had a real person on the line. I described my problem to the lady, gave her my ÖAMTC membership number and she said that the towing service would be there within the next hour. There was a workshop nearby that they worked with and Annie Way would be taken there. I wrote down the address and phone number of the garage, gave the young man at reception a hefty tip and wandered off to Annie Way. No sooner had I left the hotel than I got a call from a computer telling me to be at my car within the next ten minutes.
A friendly gentleman loaded Annie Way onto the truck and took her to the garage. It was about three kilometers away, so I went for a walk to see where it had landed.
On Monday morning, I stood in the workshop office at eight o’clock to give my details. They explained to me very kindly that they understood my situation, but that they couldn’t help me. It was tire season and the workshop was fully booked for three weeks.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last six months in North America, it’s that a “no” really does mean “no”. Non-negotiable, you don’t even need to try it. And if I’ve learned anything else, it’s that every problem can be solved. In this respect, it was good that it all happened at the end of the trip.
I called a cab to go to the shipping agent in Dartmouth to do the paperwork for the boat trip. The cab was a long time coming, so I was a little nervous as to whether I would make it to the appointment at 9:10.
While I was waiting outside the workshop, a gentleman spoke to me: “It’s tire time!” I said: “In my case, it’s oil time!” Then I explained in two sentences that my van had been towed here because the red oil check light was on. And that the workshop was fully booked.
He thought for a moment, then said that there were several smaller workshops in the next street. I should try them, he said, because they were more likely to be able to slip Annie Way in.
I thanked him warmly and almost overlooked my cab. We made it to the shipping company on time, where I was able to take care of everything, including the rebooking. Because even I had realized by now that Annie Way would not be at the harbour at 11:00 am.
New date: November 1 on Atlantic Sky. This gave me time until Wednesday morning to solve the problem.
Back by cab to Halifax, where Annie Way was standing. I took a walk to the next street and actually saw some workshops there. They couldn’t help me in the first one, but they recommended another one where it might be possible.
In the other, I met Marcus in the office, explained my problem and the time crunch I was in, and he said that if I managed to get Annie Way to them on Monday, they would take care of her by Tuesday evening. He guaranteed me that I could pick her up by 5 p.m. on Tuesday at the latest.
My next call to AAA left me stranded at the computer again. However, this time I got so far that I understood why. I had a SIM card with a Nevada number, and somehow the computer didn’t believe I was in Canada.
Back to Marcus in the office, “Yes” and “No” again several times, and I was connected to the lady from the previous day. She said she first had to ask if I could have the towing service a second time for free, because it wasn’t an “emergency”. Indeed, for once, as the recommendation for the workshop had come from AAA, but this time it would take longer.
After an hour and a half, I got a call from a real person telling me to be at my car within ten minutes. Conveniently, I was sitting in it at the time.
A friendly gentleman looked at Annie Way and said that she was too big for the truck. I explained that she had been towed by one just like that the day before, so he loaded her up and took her to the other garage.
I gave the office the required data and signed the order.
I briefly thought about the order I had given in a neighboring city of Linz in March. I should have stood my ground instead of just buckling in the face of the preponderance of male experts who made me feel like I was too stupid to judge. Now I had to deal with the consequences. My own fault.
And what if they couldn’t solve the problem? My flight left on Wednesday, October 25, and the cab was ordered for 12:00 noon to the hotel. I had to drop Annie Way off at the harbor in the morning. She was not even made seaworthy. And she wasn’t quite as clean as she was supposed to be.
But that was the least of my problems at the time. It was clear that I couldn’t postpone my flight because my visa for Canada was expiring.
I admit, as I walked the three kilometers back to the hotel, I was still preoccupied with the what-if question. I just went for a little walk around the area and realized that I actually liked Halifax.
On Tuesday, I sincerely hoped that Marcus would get in touch, but he didn’t call. I decided to take a walk to the Halifax Citadel. It was only a little over an hour away. I enjoyed the panoramic view over the city, but I lacked the motivation to visit the museum. What if …?
The colorful houses and the streets with the cafés were so nice that I sat down comfortably at a table on the sidewalk and ordered a vegetarian wrap. Delicious. But what if …?
I strolled on and suddenly found myself in the vicinity of the workshop. Annie Way was standing somewhere else. So she had been moved, she had been worked on. It was still three kilometers to the hotel, I had already walked over ten. So I went into the office, where Marcus explained to me with the patience of a saint that Annie Way wasn’t ready yet and that I should come back shortly before 5pm.
On the way back, I asked at a Petro Canada gas station if I could return two propaine containers that I had bought in Halifax at the beginning of May. No.
I marched to another gas station and described my problem. Gas containers on the ship were forbidden, and what would I do with them in Europe – I wouldn’t be able to return them there because the valves were different.
A young man at Mobil said that they normally only exchanged them, but he understood the situation and said I should just bring them. But he couldn’t pay me anything for it. He didn’t need to, I just wanted to get rid of them.
As soon as I got to the hotel, Marcus called to say I could get Annie Way. Incidentally, there wasn’t too much oil inside, it was the sensor that was the problem. I received a report from the workshop explaining exactly what was wrong. Annie Way was roadworthy, even with the red oil indicator light.
And then, once again, I paid next to nothing. I was almost embarrassed.
On the drive to the hotel, the little lamp lit up cheerfully for a few more minutes against the evening sun, then went out. It took us an hour in rush-hour traffic to cover the three kilometers to the gas station where I could unload the propaine containers, but I didn’t care.
At the hotel reception, I asked if I could empty Annie Way’s remaining white water, the water from the drinking water tank, in the parking lot by the canal. There wasn’t much left inside, and the gray water tank, the water I used to wash my hands and brush my teeth, was already empty anyway. Of course I was allowed to do that, I was told.
I stuck the workshop report to Annie Way’s dashboard and wrote in German and English that the car was roadworthy, and should the red oil control light come on, it should be ignored.
On Wednesday, October 25, I checked out of the hotel shortly before eight o’clock because I didn’t know how long the drop-off at the port would take. I could leave my luggage at reception, and if I got back before eleven o’clock, breakfast was still waiting for me.
Shortly afterwards we were at the harbor entrance, I slipped into my bright yellow safety vest and signed in. Then we drove through the harbor behind a truck. I remembered how I had taken an illegal harbor tour on May 2 because I couldn’t find my way out. This time we went in the opposite direction.
The shipping company had not sent confirmation of the rebooking. Neither to me nor to the port office. But Seabridge Germany had confirmed the rebooking to me by e-mail. In German, but that was okay. Annie Way was inspected, and the gentleman in charge grimaced a little because she was still not seaworthy. It could be that people would rearrange things when loading. But for him it was fine.
In the worst-case scenario, an invoice would follow.
I handed the keys to the lady in charge and was given precise instructions on how to leave the port area on foot. It was only two kilometers to the hotel, but the roads weren’t really nice in the area, so I agreed when the two gentlemen offered to call a cab for me when I checked out. And then I sat in their office for about half an hour and we talked. When the cab finally arrived, they said goodbye with a handshake, which meant that they had enjoyed talking to me. We wished each other a Merry Christmas – it was only two months from now – and shortly afterwards I was sitting in the hotel sipping a coffee that wasn’t too bad by Canadian standards.
Afterwards, I went for another walk.
The cab arrived on time, the security check of the hand luggage with my cameras, laptop, tablet, recording device and all the accessories was a bit tedious, but then I sat at the airport, read a book about Oak Island and the treasure that was thought to be there, and surprisingly took it quite calmly that my flight was delayed.
What if I didn’t get to Montreal in time to catch the plane to Vienna?
Well, what? Then I would fly the next day! That was no longer important.
In Montreal, all passengers who did not have a connecting flight had to remain seated until those who were in a hurry were out. I actually made it across the airport to the gate and was the last to board the Austrian Airlines plane.
Shortly afterwards we took off.
After 178 days in North America, I returned home. 178 days that had passed so quickly that I still couldn’t believe it.
Home. How wonderful! To the people who mean a lot to me.
So many people accompanied me from start to finish and encouraged me with their messages that I never felt alone for a second. And they helped me with advice when I was stuck again. Which happened quite often.
Home. With the memories of a journey that was so much more and bigger and so much more beautiful than I had hoped for, on which I learned and realized and understood so much. That changed me.
What an experience! And how happy I had been! How often I had stood somewhere, unable to believe what I was experiencing and feeling infinite gratitude. The many encounters with people who were so open and friendly and helpful, and whose composure will always be a role model for me.
The landscapes, the wildness of nature. The mountains. The rivers, the lakes. The oceans. The glaciers, the icebergs. The desert. And the beauty.
The flowers. The trees. The whales that jumped out of the water. The seals, the sea otters, the grizzlies, the black bears. The squirrels and chipmunks. The birds. The bald eagle that flew very close over me.
And above all: the vastness.
But also that I was so lucky. That everything went well. That Annie Way held out so well. That even the last two bears only found a closed door. That I would return home safe and sound.
I had fulfilled a dream. At the end of my working life and the beginning of a new phase in my life, I “dropped out” for six months. Now I had a lot of perspectives in my luggage. It was an absolute dream in every respect. And it was time to wake up.
I had set off in my father’s footsteps and arrived far beyond them, namely in my own.
I sat on the plane and realized how much I was looking forward to my future.
I was on my way home. How wonderful!
