Saturday, September 22, 2012

Onm the Road Again 2012 # 35


I, as readers of this blog may remember, always get on the road as early as I can. I do so under the unproven principle that the “early bird gets the worm”. In my experience however, this saying is seldom true if a worm is defined as a good ride. In fact the vast majority of my longer rides seem to happen in the later part of the day. Not always true but often enough to make me question why I am driven to be out on the road just shortly after the sun rises.  But there I was, just past the exit ramp on to the Trans-Canada at the north/east end of Kenora. I was slightly damp, cold and I am sure that I looked like a drowned rat that had been partially revived with a low wattage hair driver. My hair is really hard to comb when it is wet. It had gotten wet during the night has I had scrambled to sort out my sleeping arrangements and in spite of the fact it had been braided I had developed some major knots and tangles that I had not been able to get out. I had done the best that I could with it but after two days of not really seeing myself in a mirror, I suspected that describing my appearance as being drown rat-like probably was an understatement. On the other hand I must confess to a sort of weird pride of having survived another night. I always have this sense as I stand there in the early light of day of how unique my experiences are. I take some pleasure from the fact that I know that I am doing something that other folks would never dream of doing. This goes to show that people who, in the past, have questioned my intelligence may have been on to something.

In spite of my inclination to be a minor martyr to my travel muse, I was delighted when after only being there for fifteen minutes, a car stopped. As I ran up to the vehicle, the driver popped out and said that he hadn’t planned to pick up anyone and that he need to clean his car. My newest driver, Nick, had been doing some serious driving. His front seat was a bit of a disaster. As soon as there was room for me and my stuff I gratefully got in and closed the door. When he asked me I was, I said “a bit cold”. Nick turned on the heat. I knew right then and there that it was going to be a great ride. And it was.

Nick had left Jasper and was on his way back to Montreal. His goal was to make the trip in four days which meant that he needed to average 1,000 kilometers each day. He had spent six weeks at Jasper investigating as to whether or not he wanted to live out there permanently and was now on the way back to his home city. His plan was to work for a few months and then to sell his stuff and move west. Nick had lived in Jasper for a few years and had been happy but he had moved back to Montreal to be closer to his mother and his old friends. I think he had really moved back east because he felt somehow that he needed to grow up and have a more responsible career.  Being a worker in the tourist service industry and snowboarding whenever he could just does not seem to meet society’s definition of “grown-up”. But in spite of have a good job working in a concert hall as a producer/facilitator. Nick was not happy in Montreal. He had become a person of the mountains and needed to be in a place where he could wake up in the morning and see the mountains and smell the air.

Initially Nick was not clear how far he would drive me. Our first stop was in Dryden to get some breakfast at a Husky. I was hungry and very glad that he wanted to eat breakfast. I, over his protest, paid for his breakfast. I was damn grateful that he had stopped. I was now warm and fed. Life was good!!

Later in the day we stopped at another town (maybe Nipigon) so he could buy some food for supper. I asked him in the parking lot of the grocery store if I could travel with him the next day. Nick, in fact, had seen me the evening before across from that gas station/store and had decided not to pick me up. He was initially a bit reluctant to drive me any further than one day but did somewhat grudgingly agree that he would. I was never sure why he was reluctant. But I think it was because he liked being by himself. He knew when he got to Montreal things would get very busy very quickly. He was savouring the chance to be alone for awhile longer. It was almost as if he was glad of the company but at the same time a bit resentful that I had invaded his personal space.  I understood completely and have felt the same way when I stop to pick up someone. As much as I like to meet new people (and to return a few drives back to the cosmos) I like to be by myself and the intrusion of another body into my personal space can be mildly irritating. I had been driving in the car for a number of hours before it became clear that Nick would drive me all of the way to Sudbury. As much as like travelling I was delighted to know that I was done with having to hike with a pack on my back.

Nick was looking forward to going down the east side of Lake Superior and I think the fact that I was as excited as he was made my company more tolerable. He had seen a camp ground heading west earlier in the season and his goal was to get there in time for sunset and a swim on the sandy beach. It was such a delight to have a conversation with bright articulate and thoughtful thirty something driver. We talked about what it was like living in the mountains and what the draw was, why he was prepared to leave his reliable career, his mother and his long term friends for a life that sounded at the very least a bit sketchy in terms of income; we talked about Quebec politics and the absurdity of separation discussions (Nick was very clear that he did not want to get into a heated debate around Quebec politics and so we skirted around that issue carefully); we talked about parents and old friends and how it feels to not quite fit into the mold that other people have set out for you.

Although we were almost thirty years apart, we were very similar in many ways, particularly in taking that perverse pleasure for being different than others and in attempting personal journeys that other would not dream of trying. We were both excited that our epic trips for the summer were almost done and equally apprehensive about that transition into normalcy and all that entailed. There were periods of silence when we had nothing to talk about, but those times did not feel uncomfortable. It was if we had quickly become old friends who did not need to always talk.

Nick was tired. He had driven almost 2,500 kilometers in two and half days and started talking about either stopping early for the night or at the very least stopping for a nap.. He didn’t want to, but he was concerned about staying awake. For almost five hundred kilometers I “entertained” Nick. It was fun.  I told him about the people I had met, about Reg from my first trip or the Aurora Borealis from the second trip or the places I had seen, the stories I had heard. It was the first time in the entire trip that I had talked about Reg. I was glad that I had done so at least once to keep his memory alive. Between my stories and my attempts to use his GPS (which was in French) to find the provincial parks he stayed awake and on the road for the rest of the day

The drive along the shore of Lake Superior was as magnificent as always. It is such a delight to travel along this road with a true lover of the Canadian landscape. We “oohed” and “awed” at the same time and caught our collective breath at the majesty of the lake. It is extraordinary. Every Canadian, at least once during their life time, should travel down its length on a bright summer’s day. We stopped just once at a look-out place – although we really stopped because there was an old ski hill there and Nick wanted to see what it was like and if it was in operation in the winter. (it wasn’t)

We realized that we would not make his destination in time for sunset, but we found an equally great Provincial campsite on the lake, with a sandy beach. It was a bit close to the highway and one could hear the trucks roaring by but that is always music to my ears. Just as we turned into the campsite, the odometer clicker over – we had travelled a thousand Kilometers together. It felt pretty good.

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