Travel Biography - Week 11.

Flight to Toronto 1977.

At the Gatwick Airport departure lounge, my flight came up on the screen on time with the words, "Boarding. Gate xx." I made my way through the corridors until I found the appropriate gate. It wasn't long before I settled into my window seat on the starboard side of the aeroplane. Shortly after taking off, I saw that the scenery was so dramatic under clear skies, I paused a passing stewardess to ask the pilot exactly where we were flying over, as the view below looked so spectacular.

In Toronto. On a ferry to Toronto Island.

The voice of one of the crew members crackled into life with the announcement that we were flying over the Scottish Highlands, just as I've unpacked the camera that was given to me by Dad, who had it for many years. It mainly was a metal contraption covered with a dappled light grey plastic jacket. It accepted a paper-backed size 120 film. Onto it, twelve square negatives were snapped, each one was 56mm by 56mm. It was this camera that accompanied me to Italy in both years 1973 and 1975, along with Israel in 1976. Now, I was using it on this American trip Part1.

But as I released the shutter to permanently record the dramatic scenery below, the mechanism made a strange noise. Looking through the lens, I saw a mechanical failure. The camera, loaded with an unused film, could no longer be used, even when I tried to release the shutter several times. My heart fell. Next to the passport, the tickets and the book of traveller's cheques, the camera was the most important item for a backpacker, even more so than all the contents in the suitcase or rucksack stashed away in the hold.

Suddenly, I felt vulnerable. I was flying to a faraway land, a different continent to Europe, and unlike the Middle East which is connected to Europe by land bridges and international borders, this one I was heading for was across a wide expanse of ocean.

When the stewardess arrived wheeling a trolley loaded with in-flight meals, I had an idea as she handed a tray to me. It contained a small bowl of soup, the main course tray, a dessert bowl, a small glass of red wine and a bread roll. An excellent serving, in my opinion, for one who flying on such a cheap economy ticket.

After the meal, would I dare to consecrate the bread and the wine into the Body and Blood of Christ? As I was doing this, I felt apprehensive, fearful even. I was aware that the Catholic Church (in which I grew up) took this sacrament so seriously that only the priest had the authority to perform the consecration. But what did God think? Would an engine explode, sending the plane into the ocean? Would I just die before touchdown at Toronto? Would something terrible happen sometime after arrival? After all, I was performing a sacrament without authority and as such, incurring the wrath of the Church. This was my worldview in 1977.

However, after praying over the two substances, I performed the sacrament, only to realise that I have done the right thing and everything would turn out fine.

As the plane approached the runway, a conversation I thought was odd occurred between two middle-aged females sitting across the aisle, and me. Just before the touchdown, one of them asked why the plane was going so fast just before landing, whilst going much slower in full flight.

When I saw that both looked baffled, I explained that at this moment, the plane was moving around 200 mph (whether that was true or not) - whilst in full flight, it was doing up to 600 mph. When I saw her puzzled look, I tried to explain the parallax phenomenon.

Imagine you are walking along the street. I said, Along the sidewalk, there is a fence or a safety barrier. Across the road, there are some bushes. Now, as you walk, the fence seems to overtake the bushes, as if moving faster. But actually, neither is moving. You are moving. That's why in full flight, it appears as if we're moving more slowly than at touchdown when we're much closer to the ground.

The two were wide-eyed with astonishment!

One of them exclaimed, My word! You must be a doctor or professor!

A good ego-booster, no doubt. For someone who left school on just a wing and a prayer, one can learn a lot just by observation.

Completed 1977 route across N. America.

Arriving in Toronto.

A bus from the airport dropped me off at the city centre. The first facility to look for was a hotel. Walking along Queen Street, I came across one that didn't look too expensive. After all, it was a place to sleep, and I didn't need the opulence of Buckingham Palace. I entered and asked if there was a room. I was offered one, and taking the key offered to me, as before, made my way upstairs, and once settled in, I found it difficult to remain awake. Although it was evening in Eastern Canada, I was five hours behind British Summer Time, and my body clock still believed it was time for lights out.

However, having settled in, one of the first things to get off my mind was to buy a new camera, and a cheap one at that, as my budget didn't allow for a proper camera replacement. I found a photography shop and I managed to find a convenient tideover, a Kodak 110 Instamatic. This produced negatives only 13mm by 17mm in size, hence once the photos were enlarged, the outlines appeared as if slightly out of focus, giving a soft outline to all details. However, unlike the 120, the size 110 film came in a cartridge or cassette, it was very easy to load, and there was no need to rewind at completion.

However, although the camera was convenient, it was also cheap, an unexpected need to buy, and used for this trip as a tideover. But owning such a device, in a way had brought repercussion - if you want to call it that, with photos of the 1978 hike into the Grand Canyon turning out disastrous. For example, Riverside photos were taken at daybreak. According to my eyes, the features bathing in the semi-dark were stunning! But all the camera saw were blackened silhouettes against a pale blue sky, hence spoiling what were otherwise lifelong memories. Hence, the need to re-hike the Canyon in 1995, using a better camera.

The City's most impressive Square.

That evening, I walked along the main thoroughfare just to stay awake. Even after dark, the street was alive, bustling with people, very much like the West End of London on a Saturday evening (after all, this was a Saturday.) Shops were open, and the whole environment was welcoming, the weekend spirit not any less felt than in London.

The following morning, the street was quiet. As with Canadian and American hotels in general, they don't serve colazione, therefore, I had to find somewhere else for a coffee and bread. And so it was like this throughout all my two American trips of the 1970s - a reliance on cafeterias and coffee bars. However, I tended to avoid restaurants, simply to avoid overspending. One of the lessons learned with backpacking, and that there is a need to count the pennies (or cents in this case.) Rather than see this as soul-destroying, as tempting as that was to me, rather, I saw this as a vital lesson in economic long-haul travel as an independent.

City Hall, Toronto. Stock photo.

Even better and more economical than relying on cafeterias is hostelling, but I wasn't introduced to this until 1985, and that was when I travelled with Tim and Keith to the Isle of Wight. Thereafter, rather than relying on the cafeteria, it was the supermarket where I bought raw food to be cooked in the hostel's membership kitchen. But that is later.

Along Queen Street from the hotel is Nathan Phillips Square, perhaps the main attraction of the city. It features two curved skyscrapers, one taller than the other and facing each other as if (in my view) they're about to embrace. This is the New City Hall, actually just a pair of office blocks, but it's their unique architecture that has made these twin buildings unique and appears on the front cover of Canadian holiday brochures across the UK. A low, circular structure nestles between the two skyscrapers, and I wonder whether that is the hall itself, while the two curved structures are administrative towers. In front of the square, three arches dominate a fountain fronting the square with Queen Street, adding further aesthetics to the environment.

I also walk South towards Lake Ontario, perhaps along University Avenue. Nearby stands the Canadian National (CN) Tower, a structure over 533 metres high, with an indoor observation deck 346 metres high - 102 metres higher than the observation deck of the Shard, London, which is 244 metres high. During my three-day stay in Toronto, I took the elevator to the lookout at the CN Tower and spent some time there, absorbing the spectacular panorama of the city still dominated by the twin office blocks of the City Hall.

I eventually arrive at the harbour, where a boat ferried me to the Toronto Islands, enclosing a lagoon separating the islands from the mainland. It featured a permanent amusement park, including a water log flume and a sky chair. Okay, at the log flume, I got wet, but what the heck? I was on holiday, and if getting unexpectedly wet whilst enjoying myself, to me, it's all part of the fun. By contrast, the slow-moving, relaxing and noiseless sky chair in full flight offered lovely views of the park as well as the lake and the city skyline.

Under one of the arches, City Hall.

I quite liked Toronto, and to my opinion, this Canadian city in Ontario might have been considered better and more handsome than Downtown Los Angeles, if it wasn't for the balmier Californian climate, Hollywood Studios, Disneyland, its coastal features such as Long Beach, Santa Monaco, and its abundance of palm trees. However, Toronto is on the northern coast of the rather ribbon-like Lake Ontario, with its southern coastline within New York State. The lake is around 76 metres above sea level, and it's fed via Niagara Falls from Lake Eire, which is 174 metres above sea level.

Log Flume, Toronto Island.

And my third and last full day in Ontario was spent at the Niagara Falls resort. The main reason for my visit to Toronto was originally meant as a consolation for my inability to visit California before I managed to receive a US entry visa. Instead, my visit to the Falls turned out to be one of the greatest experiences I ever had, and I have no regrets.

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Next Week: A day at Niagara Falls is followed by my entry into the USA - to coincide with the premature death of a world-famous pop icon.