I visited you recently, Ottawa, and I just want to say, Thanks for being such a great place to explore.

Thanks to the Mnt Hotel for leaving the door to its swimming pool and sauna wide open.

Thanks to the Mrrtt for its formerly revolving banquet floors, with their beautiful views. Two of these floors are accessible to anyone at anytime (just take the elevator!), and the topmost floor is accessible to the determined by service elevator.

Thanks to the guys renovating the old Mpr Theatre on the top floor of the Wrld Xchng Plz, for propping the door open with a fire extinguisher.

Thanks to the guy who let me in to the War Museum at 4:50 for free. It was a whirlwind tour, unfortunately; and unfortunately the emergency exit doors were alarmed. (I always act bewildered when I set one of these alarms off, and back away from it muttering. But since most of these alarms stop once the door is closed again, I really should step through them first.)

Thanks to the National Gallery, which looks pretty easy to just stroll right in to. (I'll test this next time I'm in town.)

Thanks to the Prlmnt Bldngs, for being so easy to infiltrate. And it's a good thing, because the official tours are cloyingly bad.

Aside from some guards posted at the halls leading away from the public areas, and some serious security outside the Senate and House galleries (which you might as well just visit through official channels), most of the deterrents to self-guided tourists are psychological: cordons and "No Unauthorized Access" signs. I went in late on a Sunday and probably could have wandered the halls all night. I admit that I wimped out after about half an hour, worrying that the later I stayed, the angrier the guards would be when they inevitably saw me leaving. (They didn't care.)

Can't see this on the official tour!

The dining room on the 6th floor is a bit expensive for me. There are loaner jackets available for the shabby.

Weird interstitial space.

But my heartiest thanks go out to the Cht Lrr, whose upper floors are shockingly accessible.

You can grub around in the dusty attics, former guest rooms, storage areas, and sweltering engine rooms for hours. You can get onto the roof at a number of places -- great views of Prlmt across the street! Everything seems abandoned and unused, but must not be: doors that had been locked were open, and doors that had been open were locked when I returned a couple of days later. But the number of lockable but left-unlocked doors is still magnificent. If the stairwells don't get you where you want to go, try the service stairwells or elevators, which can be found behind unmarked doors with half-ring door handles. (Go after hours or pass the 7th floor quickly, which seems to be filled with half occupied offices.) Thanks are also due to the refreshing Gold Members' Lounge on the 4th floor, where complimentary candies, nuts, coffee, soda, and newspapers can be found.

Ottawa, je t'aime!

One evening very recently I literally strolled right in the front doors (ignoring the "Construction Personnel Only" signs) of the 'Rotower 3 office tower at about 8:30 p.m. Didn't see a security guard or another living soul anywhere, and poked around at my leisure, setting off numerous stairwell alarms, for about twenty minutes. Some nice views from the empty upper floors, some of which have balconies.

Elevator control room on the roof. Door was hanging open. Place looked eerily occupied.

The only thing stopping me from exploring everywhere is fear -- and hundreds of locked doors.

I'm such a wimp, I can never just plunge in to any place. Even a wide open door I will pass by, and return to, and pass by, two or three or four times before working up the nerve to walk through.

There is this big yard on the north arm of the Fraser River that is piled with mountains of wood chips. I don't know what they do here -- make wood chips, I guess. Last time I passed by here, the gates were open. I read all the signs carefully, and none of them said "Do not trespass." Still, I didn't have the guts to go in. After all, if someone left this gate open, someone must BE here ...

Today I had the guts to go in.

I biked in and made a brief circuit, half looking for someone to ask permission to take some photos, and half just pretending to look for someone. There was a truck parked by the gate, but no one inside the truck, nor any sign of anyone in the compound. I locked my bike up outside, then strolled in, holding my camera in front of me, more like a badge than a tool. (I was too panicked to take out my tripod.)

I went inside one of the buildings, or structures (they looked to me like big woodchipping machines), but I didn't even explore that fully, because my imagination kept informing me that the owner of the truck was in that room, or in that room, or just beyond that window, so I probably didn't want to go in there, or pass by there. How startled and uncomfortable we'd both be if I burst in on him!

Panic shot.

Another eternal debate: Keep exploring till you've seen everything, and therefore pretty much guarantee bumping into someone; or quit while you're ahead? But when are you ahead?

Occasionally tiny avalanches of wood chips made a pleasant pattering sound.

Back at home, comfy and rational, I am able to put things in perspective: I wasn't doing anything very wrong. I can play dumb and harmless very convincingly. (Actually, I am dumb and harmless.) Being uncomfortable or making people uncomfortable is not a big deal. Even being yelled at is not very serious.

But I'm not very rational when I'm exploring. I'm a wimp.

On my way home, I nerved myself to "squeeze" through the loosely chained gate of this plant.

First, however, I had to take three or four good looks at the gap, and three or four good looks at the one truck parked in one remote corner of the property. After reasoning that no one would lock themselves inside the parking lot with a padlock facing the outside of the gate, I concluded that, though the plant was making a lot of hissy clanky noise, there really probably wasn't anyone on site.

That made this a more comfortable exploration.

All the locked doors made it a disappointing and brief one.

There's this big beautiful boat docked in the Fraser River that I've had my hungry eye on for a few weeks.

Not my photo. (Credit suppressed by ninjitsu.)

In fact it's a fishing lodge that makes its way up to Haida Gwaii every summer. At night you can peer from the shore through its large windows into its soft lamplit comfort. It looks like an empty floating hotel. I wanted inside that thing.

I was a bit shy about hopping over the fence into the shipyard at night, since it's well lit and there are always vehicles parked there. I couldn't be sure that there wasn't some kind of night watchperson. Also, though it looked unlikely, it was conceivable that someone might actually live in that floating hotel. It would be not nice to climb aboard someone's house at night.

The eternal debate: Go stealthy by night, and risk appearing so much more guilty if you get caught, or saunter in by day, but be much more likely to be caught or stopped? I wavered, and meanwhile went back several times, by night and by day, to look, and to yearn.

Today, though it was late in the day on a holiday, the gate was open, and I just decided to go straight to the office and ask for permission. The office was locked. I strolled alongside the big boat, trying to look like a photographer mentally composing photos. I strolled up the ramp and right on board. It was wide open, and no one in sight. Christmas!

I was prepared to hail the first person I saw, and grin and say, "Hi there! I was LOOKING for someone to ask permission to take a few photos." But when I reached the large common hall area and still hadn't run into anyone, I decided just to take a few photos.

Blurry panic shot -- with tripod!

Blurry panic shot with tripod.

Aside from a small mechanical room and a small laundry room, I peered into a number of guest rooms. Most of these were stripped down, or cluttered with boxes, or filled with bags of linen. Clearly the lodge was still being prepared for its summer glory. There were also tool belts and coffee cups lying around.

Satellite radio was playing Stevie Nicks.

I went upstairs and looked at more guest rooms, then decided to go downstairs, in search of picturesque engine rooms or, I don't know, steam tunnels. At the bottom of the stairs I looked down one hall, then down the other. I thought I could see a bit of someone's back sitting in a chair, and decided to return upstairs.

I prowled around a little more, took a few more photos, and tried to tell myself NOT to tiptoe -- that was suspicious behavior. (Again the debate: be a stealthy creep, or a noisy innocent?) At the far end of the "main" floor hallway, I stepped out onto the deck, then opened the door to Suite 14, which I thought must be something special if it has a separate front door. It was very warm in there, and I saw two pairs of shoes sitting neatly by the entrance. I had the feeling someone lived here. I closed the door quietly.

Then I put away my camera, took a deep breath, and decided to go downstairs and ask whoever I encountered for permission to take some photos.

Halfway down the stairs, I heard a voice, changed my mind, and turned back.

I decided that this had been a successful infiltration, and called it a day.

Strolling back towards the gate, the same way I'd come, I spotted a guy through one of the boat's windows, and he spotted me. I waved and came closer, while he quizzically opened his sliding patio door.

"Hi there," said I. "I was wondering who to talk to about maybe getting a tour of this boat, or asking permission to take some photos of it."

"Okay, first of all, was the gate open?"

"Yes, it is open."

He said it shouldn't be. He told me that this was private property, and that just walking in here was the same as walking in to someone's house.

I said I was sorry about that.

"I'm amazed the way people will just walk in to an industrial site like this, an active site where, if they got hurt, we'd be liable."

"Yeah. Curiosity, I guess."

He said some more to the effect that it wasn't okay.

I agreed and said, "But speaking for myself, not being litigious, I'd never dream of blaming someone else if I got hurt ..."

"Yeah, anyway. If you come back during business hours, Tuesday to Friday this week, you can talk to John. He's the lodge manager."

"And he'll be where, here on the boat?"

"Right where I'm standing. You can ask him about a tour or taking photographs."

"Okay, thanks. I did check the office over there first, but didn't find anyone to talk to."

"That's because it's a holiday." He repeated that the gate shouldn't be open. I offered to close it on my way out. "Never mind. You don't know the code."

I thanked him, apologized for the inconvenience, recapped the information he'd given me, and said goodbye.

Later, biking away, I thought how funny it was the way people get angry at you for putting yourself in a position where you might hypothetically get hurt, then hypothetically sue them for not doing a better job of keeping your trespassing ass out of harm's way. And hypothetically get laughed out of court.

I also thought it was funny that he chastised me for "endangering" myself and for showing up after hours, then urged me to come back during business hours, when all that alleged dangerous industrial activity is actually happening.

I wonder if he'd have been as civil if he'd found me on his boat.

-- Postscript. I didn't go back between Tuesday and Friday, because I was busy. Now the lodge is on its way north.