I woke up at 0700 hours to a clear sky. Soon after, I found myself stuck in a significant traffic jam, likely caused by an accident. This allowed a weather front to catch up with me, bringing grey skies, light rain, and a temperature of 10 degrees Celsius. I managed to drive 750 km along the southern coast of the St. Lawrence River and then discovered a lovely beach campsite between Mechins and Petits Mechins. I went to bed by 2030 hours and slept soundly.
I was up by 0630 hours and continued my journey around the Gaspé Peninsula. The waterfront homes and properties were vibrant (painted in light pastel colours) and well-kept. Numerous picnic tables and gazebos beckoned for relaxation and ocean views, but I kept going. Although I had a slight chest cold, I felt thrilled and grateful to be touring this coastline while listening to the “Beatles Channel” on Sirius XM. I opted to rent a hotel room (my first during this North American segment of my trip) as my cold was worsening. Motel Rocher Percé charged me $138.15 (including taxes) for the night. It offered a fantastic view of the iconic Percé Rock, a large table-top rock that looked like a ship at sea. It featured a sea cave that pierced the rock, giving it a very distinctive appearance and true-to-form name (en français). After making several calls to family and friends on WhatsApp, I went to bed early (with some cold medication), as I wanted to capture some early morning photos of this stunning area.
I woke up at 0540 hours and took some pictures of the sunrise. Wow! After that, I sent more emails regarding pending visitations. It can be exhausting to constantly arrange these stops with so many uncertainties, but it needs to be done. Hurricane Milton is projected to hit my friend Calvina’s home in Largo (Tampa), Florida, in a few days, so she will be evacuating soon. The leaves are now turning a bright red, but these vibrant colours are muted by the gloominess brought on by the drizzling rain. I arrived in Moncton and discovered a nice gas station parking lot where I could spend the night.
It’s now October 8th. I woke up at 0600 hours on a dark, misty morning. I went to Planet Fitness for a light workout and a refreshing hot shower. I’ve made it a routine to take a photo of every sign at each PF gym I visit. Later in the day, I went to the Department of Natural Resources headquarters in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. Conservation Officer Paul STEADMAN spoke to me about their use-of-force training. They became an armed force in 1989 after two officers were nearly beaten to death the previous year. Paul became a control tactics instructor in 1999. They have four part-time instructors to conduct the 40 hours of annual training for their 56 officers. They must recertify with the Atlantic Police College every five years. Paul showed me a defensive tactics manual that was identical to our old manual. We exchanged a few techniques and challenge coins, and I started driving toward the southeastern part of the province, but unfortunately, darkness was approaching quickly along with the rain, so I parked at the back of an Irving gas station lot alongside the truckers for an early bedtime.
Once more, I was awake quite early (at 0630 hours), long before the sun rose, and I made my way towards Yarmouth. My former police partner, Toby HINTON, sent me an encouraging email regarding my trip, which provided a much-needed lift. The VPD Chief’s Executive Officer, Kevin BERNARDIN, continues to advocate for my tour with various police agencies across Canada and the United States. I feel lucky to have support from them and my partner, Laurence HOFFMANN, who urges me to slow down and take a break. I don’t heed her advice, as I feel winter nipping at my butt. I passed a severely damaged vehicle that had just collided with a deer. The female driver was okay, slightly shaken, but the deer was DOA (or DRT–Dead Right There). A few hours later, just outside Yarmouth, a small stone flew up from a clean, dry, paved road and chipped the lower left corner of my windshield. I was informed by a glass shop that since there was a crack associated with the chip, it couldn’t be repaired, and the damage was now considered structural. No glass shops stock the Nissan windscreens (even the dealers must order them from Montreal), so I will have to monitor the crack’s growth until I return home. I tag the crack’s growth with a marking pen, just for fun. It can be boring on the road! I visited the Yarmouth Mountain Cemetery (1860) to view the older gravestones. I observed a deer grazing on the short grass and wondered if that lady had hit its mother…
I reached Halifax Planet Fitness for a workout and then spent the night in the nearby Walmart parking lot. This mix of shopping, gym, and overnight parking is ideal for someone homeless like me on the move. My visit hasn’t yet received approval from Halifax, so I will need to double back. I worked out again in the morning and then visited a laundromat before heading to the Fredericton Walmart parking lot. I attended a session at Will O’Ree Place to observe 14 officers participating in the introduction of “C4C” training (Code 4 Concepts). These officers receive 8 days of annual in-service training each year. This unit is considered a satellite of the Atlantic Police College, which allows their in-service training to be properly certified. This arrangement helps prevent overcrowding at the Atlantic Police Academy (APA). They encourage controlling an arrestee rather than using Tasers for compliance, unlike some other agencies who are overly gadget-reliant, in my estimation. The instructors were welcoming in hosting me: Eric CARRISTA, Brent LEGERE, Michael FOX, Daniel LEBLANC, and Brandon JORDAN. Thanks guys!
After the training session, I started a six-hour drive back to Halifax, arriving after dark (2130 hours) to reclaim my previous Walmart parking space. I was too energized to sleep. It felt as if I were being entombed in the back of my car (too much stress and caffeine?), so I went for a midnight workout at Planet Fitness. I finally fell asleep after 0300 hours with the help of half a sleeping pill. What is wrong with me?
I woke up to a sunny day at 1030 hours., feeling tired with some lingering anxiety. I went for another workout and freshened up for my meeting with the Halifax police. At 1300 hours, I met with Cst. Scott BAIGENT, a five-year member of the force. He mentioned that they also conduct their own in-house training for their 600 officers. He showed me their homeless Green Road Encampment (40 tents and makeshift shelters), and I informed him that these encampments, populated by drug-affected and mentally ill individuals, are now found in major cities and towns to varying degrees in all the places I have visited so far. After a relatively uneventful shift, I returned to my Walmart spot and was asleep before midnight.
It is now Sunday, October 13. I worked out at Planet Fitness and then completed various tasks to catch up on my “work.” I bought a comforter since it was getting chilly in the back of my car. I was asleep by 2300 hours in the Walmart parking lot. I woke up on Thanksgiving Day, and everything was very quiet when I got up at 0615 hours. I felt a sense of dread and anxiety that I again merely attributed to road stress (I was wrong!). I drove up to the Halifax Citadel National Historic Site (1749), a defensive structure that protected the Halifax Harbour and its Royal Navy Dockyard. These defences were never put to the test. I had to wait for the gates to open. I was so early that I received the unofficial early bird discount—free! The views of the city from this location were stunning. I later walked through the Camp Hill Cemetery (1894), searching for the older gravestones. My fascination with graves continues. I find the inscriptions about how various individuals died (and their ages), succinctly carved in stone, intriguing. I headed for the northern tip of Cape Breton, a mere 2.5-hour drive, while planning further police agency visits eastward (like the Atlantic Police Academy). I discovered a wonderful coastal camping spot off the Cabot Trail (Highway 30) between Birch Plain and Wreck Cove. I went to sleep early to the sound of gentle rain.
I slept for 11 hours and walked a short distance down to a smooth-pebbled beach to enjoy the ocean view in very pleasant, partially cloudy weather. I hit the road at 0800 hours and took in as much of the beauty that the Cabot Trail had to offer from the comfort of my driver’s seat. I passed through several large parks, including that of the Cape Breton Highlands, wishing I had more time to explore them. Winter is chasing me south, so I have to keep moving. There are many trailheads that attract the energetic, outdoorsy types, but I focus on covering distance. There were numerous tourist pullovers but not many actual rest stops. My stomach craves even the most basic of outhouses, but fortunately, many of the pit stops are well-maintained. My GPS constantly directs me to the ferry crossing to Prince Edward Island (PEI) instead of my intended destination, the 12.9 km long Confederation Bridge, a “Fixed Link” that opened in 1997. This is Canada’s longest bridge (and the world’s largest over ice-covered water). It is free to enter PEI, but you must pay a $50.25 toll (compared to $94.00 for the ferry) when leaving. This GPS preference for the ferry forced me to spend the night lost in a random back road location. After driving all day, I was asleep by 2100 hours.
I had a long slumber and woke up to clear weather at a temperature of 4 degrees Celsius. I stopped at the Palmerston Cemetery near Pugwash, Nova Scotia, to indulge my usual morbid curiosity about dead people. I arrived at Slemon Park, Summerside, PEI, a day early to explore the area. After a quick look around, I decided to drive to the northwest part of the island. The red sand beaches and blowing winds were refreshingly beautiful in their own right. I made a brief stop at the “Stomping Tom Centre,” a historical site honouring this legendary Maritime singer. I passed by “Alaska”…there are so many towns and cities with similar names around the world. I arranged for an oil change at the local Nissan dealership for early the next day, so I slept in their parking lot, blending in with the other cars. This is stealth camping at its finest!
After getting the oil changed on October 17, I returned to the Atlantic Police Academy mid-morning and met with Gord CAMPBELL, the retired RCMP officer serving now as the Deputy Director of the APA. He was accompanied by Curriculum and Instructional Consultant (civilian) Rodney MOORE, who provided me with an overview of the college’s operations. The Academy is affiliated with Holland College, which offers 64 other full-time programs, including core programs in Police Science, Corrections, Conservation, Sheriff and Public Safety, and Professional Firefighting. The Police Science program lasts for 32 weeks, consisting of 4 weeks of mixed online courses, 16 weeks of theoretical classes on-site, and 12 weeks of practical on-the-job experience for cohorts of 24 or 48 recruits. As a former military base, there are dormitory accommodations for most of the 48 students trained annually (which will increase to 96 next year), who pay $32,305 for their training. Their reality-based training employs police officers as primary role players, with some civilian actors filling supporting roles. These scenarios are visually recorded for analysis and feedback. Stress vests that deliver electric shocks are used instead of Simunition rounds during firearm simulations. They are transitioning to virtual reality training (“Street Smart VR”) for some of these simulations.
I was uncertain about the value of virtual training until I experienced it myself. Insp. Mike ROTSMA, the lead VR Instructor, graciously arranged several scenarios for me to try, and I was genuinely impressed with the decision-making aspects offered and the feedback provided to the students by this system. For those unfamiliar with this type of training, students wear a VR headset that displays various cartoon-like environments where subjects appear as avatars, navigating through pre-programmed scenarios. Users can see their “own” (avatar) feet, and when they physically hold the training gun, they see their avatar arms holding a corresponding simulated weapon. Initially, I instinctively reached for cartoonish obstacles that weren’t present, like chairs and tables. Gunplay displayed digital shot placements (seen as red dot indicators), and the avatars reacted as if they were shot. I wish the gun had full trigger action, but I suppose that will come in time. This training does not enhance shooting skills; rather, it focuses on testing the student’s decision-making abilities, with indications of the appropriateness and general accuracy of shot placements.
Essentially, the training occurs in an empty room with a virtual “fence” marking a smaller perimeter, so if the trainee steps outside the fence (closer to an actual wall), they will exit the virtual room and see a blurred black-and-white view of the real physical space, preventing them from colliding with the actual walls. It was both educational and enjoyable! The VR Instructor can replay the scenario from his oversight perspective, the student’s viewpoint, or even from the perspective of an inserted avatar. Some simulations also utilize batons and pepper sprays, but I did not get a chance to participate in those scenarios. As AI-generated avatars and constructed environments become more realistic, the impact of this training will increase. Nothing, however, can replace real-life experience, just as street experience cannot be taught. The gap between simulations and reality is closing quickly. It’s a matter of balancing financial considerations regarding the costs of ammunition, setup time, and the risks of physical injury, among other factors, with the experiences gained by such, albeit artificial, simulation training.
I spoke with the Control Tactics Instructor, Insp. Jason Murray, and demonstrated the double twistlock technique to him. He was familiar with it, but they do not incorporate it into their training. The facilities are adequate, but like many training locations, they lack a sprung floor, which we now have at our JIBC Police Academy, VPD Tactical Training Centre, and Police Judo headquarters, thanks to Ret. Sgt. Toby HINTON’s efforts. The simulation rooms are quite basic; many agencies struggle to have decent simulation rooms, let alone full-scale villages as seen in some other agencies in Australia and New Zealand. Overall, it was a fantastic experience for me. Kudos to everyone involved!
I then headed to Charlottetown and found a typical Walmart parking lot where I spent the night. The leaves on the trees are changing to autumn colours as the temperature drops towards freezing. I look forward to heading south, where it is much warmer! The next day, I explored the historic Beaconsfield House (built in 1877) and admired the ocean views and nearby lighthouses. These lighthouses were crucial during the early days of seafaring before modern navigational aids were available. Ironically, my modern GPS continued to cause me a bit of confusion on back roads, so I ended up sleeping in the Borden Info Centre parking lot, just before the bridge, to ensure an early start.
It is now October 19, 2024. I woke up at 0515 hours to make it to the ferry terminal by 1100 hours. I noticed a 10-day forecast window of sunny weather, so I decided to visit Newfoundland, another province I had never been to before. The PEI bridge is truly an impressive structure to drive over. After a 10-minute drive across the bridge, I had to return to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, to board the once-daily, 7-hour ferry to Port-Aux-Basques, Newfoundland. I arrived a bit late, but “Susan” at the ticket booth made a call and managed to fit me on. Thank you!
There was no WiFi, so I worked on hand-sorting my bills and writing offline blog entries. I tried to nap but was unsuccessful—perhaps I’m experiencing “boat lag” from the half-hour (?) time zone change. I called Commander Larry DYESS in Louisiana, who was very helpful in arranging further stops in the southern states. The ferry docked at 1900 hours (or whatever time it was), and I found a lovely, quiet spot behind a large billboard next to a Canadian Tire gravel parking lot. I made a few WhatsApp calls and went to bed at midnight, feeling a sense of anxiety deep within me. More road stress?
I slept for 6 ½ hours until 0615 hours. The sun didn’t rise until 0730 hours and I was up! It turned into a clear and sunny day—a lovely beginning to my journey on “The Rock.” I drove along the easternmost section of Highway #1 NE before diverting into Gros Morne National Park (approximately halfway up the finger-like west coast of the island), known for its stunning tablelands and lakes. I noticed a triangular yellow moose warning sign indicating that there had been 13 accidents in 2023 and 5 in 2024 involving these animals. Speaking of yellow, there are now many yellow trees visible (what happened to the red ones?). This marks my second Fall season of the year to enjoy, thanks to my trip Down Under. Along the coastline on Highway #430 N, known as “The Viking Trail,” there are numerous charming fishing villages. I ended up taking a side road and followed a smaller trail to a very quiet area next to an old, beached fishing boat at Plum Point, right by the shore. I fell asleep by 2100 hours, lulled to rest by the gentle sounds of the wind and waves.
I woke up after 6 hours of sleep due to misreading my watch. I had set my timer and mistook 6 hours for 0600 hrs, but it was actually only 0300 hrs, so I went back to sleep until 0700 hours. I didn’t notice any cars passing by all night, but I was well tucked away on the beach. I hit the road just as it began to brighten, as much as a rainy and dreary day would allow. The land is flat, dotted with tiny lakes and small round ponds. There are many bundles of firewood from small trees and piles of lobster traps, suggesting that petty theft is not an issue in these areas. A short distance later, I arrived at L’Anse aux Meadows, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which, like other tourist attractions at this time of year, was closed for the season. I encountered a friendly Park Ranger who was passing by the Info Centre. He provided me with an informative brochure and kindly directed me, as an off-season visitor, to where I needed to go. The Vikings had been here a thousand years ago, long before myself and any Europeans arrived. I drove a short distance closer to this ancient settlement and walked over to the archaeological site to explore replica sod huts and the coastal trail. I thought to myself (as there was absolutely no one else around to talk to) how tough those people must have been back then. I felt very cold and utterly lonely in this unoccupied site. I drove just 2 km to the Norstead site, a Viking trading port, which had four period-style buildings dating from 790-1066 AD. I admired the runes carved into headstone-shaped rocks. These are far older than the ones I saw thus far if that’s, in fact, what they were.
At noon, after doing a mini workout on a dry wooden boardwalk, I turned my wheels south toward St. John’s, almost 1,110 km away, on the opposite side of the island. I stopped at Arches Provincial Park, where I found three rock arches that were hydrostatically drilled by ocean water into the water-soluble dolomitic conglomerate rock. After millions of years, the incessant forces of erosion, like winds driving waves of water smashing into ever-growing cracks in the headland rock, created this interesting geomorphological feature. One arch has totally collapsed due to this perpetual pounding—the others will also fall in time. The remnant rock looks like some thick-legged prehistoric creature crawling out of the ocean onto a pebbly beach-—a kind of fossilized transition of life from sea to land—ha! I leave Highway 340 S and get back on the TransCanada Highway (#1) and soon find a pullout near Deer Lake on a side road that is perfect for my needs. I only got 300 km of driving done today, but I got tired from all the touristy stuff that I did. I faceplant into the back of my car, and I am asleep by 2130 hours after trying to do my usual emailing (signal permitting) to set up police agency visits down the road. The signal here is very spotty (even for the strong signal of SiriusXM radio channel).
I awaken at 0630 hours (amazing rising times for a long-time night owl like myself), but it is easy to do after sleeping nine hours. Sleeping in would only further limit my driving hours, as I really dislike night travel. Besides, there is simply nothing to see in the dark. As it often happens, I had to get up in a hurry as my guts wanted to drop out of my body (typical for this trip). It’s minus 4 degrees Celsius outside with no clouds to mask a myriad of stars (very few are distant galaxies) plastered all across the otherwise black expanse of sky. Daylight began to seep in at 0710 hours, so I hit the road for a big day of driving. It quickly warmed up to 2 degrees Celsius on a cloudless day, lacking any sort of WiFi signal. I drove off my intended route just to see Dildo, Newfoundland. Like the North Pole in Alaska, the humour and novelty in its name soon wore off. Even a garbage can, shaped like the pleasure missile, was labelled after the town name. I quickly turned away after seeing a “Happy Dildo Day’ sign on a lawn displaying letters with similar looks to the famed “Hollywood” sign, as individually posted (albeit smaller) white-font letters. I passed the “Nan and Pop’s Dildo Souvenir Shop”. I stopped to take a few pics of this place, but I couldn’t find the desire to enter the store to check it out. Why did I come here? This is fairly depressing…how do the locals stomach it?
I get to St. John’s after about 700 km of driving and work off my road stress at yet another local Planet Fitness. I found a rejection email from the Professional Standards Unit of the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary as my short-notice request, which was sent up the chain of command from the Inspector level, could not be accommodated due to “operational requirements”. Oh well, I’ll decide to resume my quest without their assistance. Imagine the bureaucracy behind what is, in my books, basically a Sergeant-level request. At the very least, a ride-along would have been helpful, but do I get the front seat with a one-man car or the back seat with a partnership? Clearly, this needed deeper operation analysis…
I had a nice phone chat with my old friend Doug FARENHOLTZ (of POPAT fame) and his wife Sandra back in BC. We talked about our old training days, and I told him I still saw his (sold) pull-push machine around, now labelled according to whoever is currently flogging the system. He likes my mission.
I find the local Walmart and zonk out. It is now October 23, 2024. I am up at 0745 hours on yet another beautiful day. I shopped there and later found a lovely little laundromat. I drove around the city and admired its look. The harbour is fairly small, but it accommodates large freighters, and even a huge cruise ship could be seen docked. I drove up to the Signal Hill National Historic Site, upon which sits the strategic Cabot Tower overlooking the harbour and the Narrows entrance to it (360-degree view!). It is easily St. John’s most visited tourist site and is a source of much city pride. I descended back into the city, past brightly painted houses and shops, and then I camped out behind a gas station lot at Springdale Junction, one which primarily catered to truckers (and now, insolvents like myself). My small rig took relatively little room, and my presence went unnoticed (or no one cared). I got connected again to Commander Larry DYESS, a great guy who offered continued assistance in the southern states (and elsewhere throughout the world) from his connections in FBINAA (Federal Bureau of Investigations National Academy Associates). I slept soundly starting at 2130 hours, notwithstanding the comings and goings of the big rigs.
I get up at 0500 hours (!), and I am on the road by 0530 hours. “Breaker breaker breaker, the Traveling Tactical Trainer is hitting the road early!” I arrived in Port aux Basques, thinking that all was well, but I did not make an apparently mandatory, no-extra-cost ferry reservation (on the advice of a local person). Rather than have me wait 24 hours for the next ferry, pity is taken upon my aging homeless face, and I am allowed to proceed onto it (I am now twice lucky!). The ferry is a newer one with many reclining chairs (but alas, no WiFi). There are so few people on board that several sections of the ship are closed off. It was a pleasant 96 km sailing back to the North Sydney port in Nova Scotia. After disembarking, I quickly find an unused logging road, a pullout off Highway 105, just as darkness set in at 1830 hours. I used the massive, all-natural outdoor toilet in the darkness and rain, then I got to sleep before 2100 hours. I try my best not to drag any mud into my home. The night owl in me is slowly dying…
I am up at 0630 hours with my guts dropping out again. I mention this affliction because I was confusing this as a symptom of poor eating and road/trip stress. It is something far worse, as I will explain later after I get to the Florida hospital portion of my east coast of the USA adventure. In any case, I drove to St. John, New Brunswick and found a Planet Fitness for a workout and shower, then yet another Walmart parking lot to crash at. My contacts for the East Coast of the USA are not panning out, but I do have a dear friend in Florida, Calvina Fay, from my Drug-Free America days, so I do have a destination to shoot for.