September 25, 2006 - Bob’s Lake, Ontario – Anticipation may have kept Seventies’ songstress Carly Simon “way-yay-yay-yay-yay-ting”. But in our household, it’s also a clever way to get through the black hole on the Canadian calendar between Christmas and the March school break. Summer vacations, discussed and planned in the darkness of February, are only that much sweeter when realized in the sunny days of July and August.

But this winter was spent planning a home renovation, not clam hunting in Prince Edward Island or hiking in the Kokanees. Instead of pouring over maps and booking accommodations, we were searching for the right bath fixture and wondering if the kid’s new rooms really needed pot lights. Instead of the annual expectancy of a far away adventure, our family of four were packing up our belongings to be put away in storage and shacking up with overly generous (and admittedly naïve) relatives.



With our building contractor’s ever slipping schedule creeping towards our booked-off holiday time, the idea of making travel reservations and deposits quickly seemed both unrealistic and irresponsible. Plan B, the family cottage on Bob’s Lake, nestled in the Rideau Lakes area between Ottawa and Kingston, was put into play.

Folklore claims ‘Bob’ was a reclusive native trapper. The lake was dammed in 1821 to regulate water low into the Rideau Canal and was a hot mica mining spot in the first half of the 20th century.

The drive there from Ottawa starts in flat farmland, but ends up in some of the twistiest backroads this side of the Laurentians, especially around the town of Westport. In addition to the regular cottage getaway vehicle requirements of plenty people and parcel space, something relatively fun to drive was in order; especially for those inevitable rainy day side trips.



A call to Audi Canada’s Doug Clark resulted in a new, heavily-optioned (base price of $69,900 ended up at $81,375) Q7 4.2, with hopes of not only having the flexibility to adapt to our family’s already frayed vacation plans, but maybe,—possibly!, perhaps!—keep dad’s driving jones satisfied as well.

The 4.2 designation means Audi’s recognizable 345 horsepower and 325 pound-feet of torque 4.2-litre V-8 is on hand. (That’s more cajones than both the Volkswagen Touareg and Porsche Cayenne V-8s, which share the Q7’s bones). The sole transmission is a six-speed automatic with the familiar Tiptronic manumatic function.

Whereas the VW and Porsche seat five, the Audi’s wheelbase is over 150 millimetres longer, enabling not only two more seats in the additional third row, but also a week-at-the-cottage-worth of cargo room with said seats folded. The second row seats also are different in that they are split three ways and can slide as well as fold. Credit to Audi designer, Canadian Dany Garand, the Q7’s exterior reflects Audi new sleek motifs with an intimidating front grille that looks like it could eat a Honda Fit and/or a Toyota Yaris for breakfast and still have the munchies.

Our Q7 had the panorama sunroof ($2,300) that effectively makes the car’s roof like an upside down glass-bottom boat.  Only four up, we didn’t maximize the Q7’s maximum seating capacity, but like its competitors, it’s a tight fit for anyone beyond their pre-pubescent years in the third-row. Otherwise, the Q7’s cabin’s materials, fit and finish were up to Audi’s industry benchmark standards.



Not conceived with hardcore off-roading in its repertoire, the Q7’s standard Quattro all-wheel-drive system, with a Torsen limited-slip center differential, will send 40% of its power to the front wheels while the remaining goes out back. There’s an adaptive air suspension (a steal at $575) with five different settings. I tended to toggle between ‘comfort’ (en famille) and ‘dynamic’ (solo newspaper runs into town). With only a couple of kilometers of gravel road to get to our cottage, needless to say, the biggest Audi delivered us in swift and stylish fashion.

Blessed with near perfect weather, the first five days of our Great Canadian Cottage Vacation were spent getting caught up with family, and mainly doing what one does in such a setting: plenty of jumping off the dock, floating on noodles, tubing behind Uncle Ian’s bow rider, kayaking to the island and back and fishing (Bob’s provides walleye, northern pike, fighting bass, perch, blue gills, rock bass and sunnies —if you can catch ‘em).



Inevitably, our rainy day came. And with such little planning, and risking my nomination for Dad of the Year, yours truly suggested piling into the Audi for a day trip to either Hell Holes Nature Trails and Caves or the little-known local oddity called the Hollenforde Crater.

With such a wealth of options (That’s called sarcasm, right? – Ed.), amazingly, the crater won out.

You would think a cavity in the earh 2.35 km in diameter would be easy enough to find. But between our map, and the Audi’s nav system, we wandered through all the Hollenfordes (Lower, proper, and Upper), but no crater sited.



Eventually, we pulled into Steve Martin’s (not The Jerk), laneway.

“Go up to those silos and hang a right, you can’t miss it,” was the advice.

It took a few passes down the gravel road, but we finally found the blue historical plaque, and found ourselves in a little valley. Looking north of the plaque, there’s a hint of the path the meteorite caused when it landed here 550 to 100 million years ago.

It wasn’t anticipated, but you never saw four people so excited to find a hole in the ground.

- John LeBlanc, Publisher, www.straight-six.com



© National Post 2006. This article originally appeared in The National Post's Driving.