This post is what some might refer to as a “doozy”.
It encompasses an entire 4.5 day journey from Ottawa to Whitehorse, YT with 4 Yukoners and 2 silver hatchbacks.
Nansen was uber-stoked.
The trip started off with some grim prospects. Yeah, that says freezing rain. I was dealing with it.
The view from my window may have been depressing, but I had mountains a nation away just waiting to be stared at. I would endure anything.
And endure we did.
What Up Northern Ontario snowstorm? Just thinking about my skinny all-season tires had me quivering in my birkenstocks. I had my game face on for a solid hour after the plow we had been following decided to abandon us. While I sweated profusely and proceeded to nearly wet myself, my copilot slept.
So happy he wasn’t burdened with my woes.
My copilot’s name is Logan. Logan is a keeper. Don’t let any jabs in this proceeding post convince you otherwise ;).
I think most of our miscommunications were a result of my poor hearing and his mumbling.
Except that one time… he said that his “speaking voice isn’t always eligible”. By which he thought he meant “legible”. By which I told him he meant “audible” or “articulate”. I’m sure he knew what he meant, I knew what he meant. Again, don’t let this alter your perception of Logan. He was a good driver.
Thank god, or I would have been too stressed to photojournal.
With this photo, I realized that not eating the last three raspberries was pathetic on my part.
I didn’t want to accept that I had eaten the entire container within 5 minutes. So I left three.
I thought to myself, “Brittany, does leaving three raspberries really make you a stronger person?”
I also occupied my idle mind with a fruit sticker collection. Watch out later in this post for the progression of my certified organic dashboard.
The first half of our “Northern” Ontario journey was thrilling. Really.
This place is called Gas Cat. I think It may be closed. Shucks.
Obviously upon our arrival in “the Sault” (ie: Sault St. Marie), these four skiers felt like fatties. It had been at least a day (okay three) since we had all exercised. Ew. So we threw down a high speed run around a soggy golf course. Awe Yeeeeah.
We would loose this level of determination in days to come. Meaning the next day. And the next three. Sleeping in cars is tiring.
Along with unbeatable hospitality, The Sault also found us humidity. This is what happens when I find humidity.
It’s ok, don’t feel too bad for me. The hospitality was worth it.
They sent us off the next day with home-made granola bars. #winning.
Day two and I was still forced to converse with Logan. Really. Forced. This was what my cellphone showed me for nearly the entire trip.
He was excited that we chose to go the south route because that meant we would be driving along “that big lake”.
He knew it was called Lake Superior, I’m sure he just wanted me to guess.
The lake was big, he was right. It was also purdy. Memories of the aforementioned snowstorm were at this point erased.
I added to my elation by listening to Neil Young. He makes me feel Canadian.
We also listened to The Cranberries. Just because. Logan found out he loves The Cranberries. Singing was involved in copious amounts during this trip.
Ontario brought us conversations about Ontario’s obsession with town names involving “awa” (Ottawa, Oshawa, Mattawa, Petawawa, Wawa…), and conversations about naming conventions in general. ” I wonder if that river is called ‘Marion River’ because he found the river, and then he found that lake and happened to like Hammers so he called it Hammer Lake”, “Or maybe that’s his last name, Marion Hammer.” It brought us too much thinking time. I felt like Socrates. Come on guys, you know the naming of Hammer Lake is profound.
Ontario also brought us, as a group, three $107 tickets. The O.P.P were clearly getting bored shooting beer cans off fences and decided that out-of-provincers would be the next best target. Don’t get me started on my profound hatred for the Ontario police. Colin and Nansen were initially pulled over for going too slow while waiting for us to catch up after a wrong turn (that I will also not detail, for fear over heart palpitations). Yes they were going around 15K under the speed limit. Weren’t they satisfied when they found out his registration had expired. Happy Day!
Then half an hour later, a speeding ticket for each vehicle. HURRABIES! Yes, we had been momentarily going 112km/h in a 90 zone. So kill me. 90km/h, really? Were there children playing on the highways?
On the bright side, the Manitoba border crossing was like being born again.
110km/h speed limits should just always be part of my life.
Stay Tuned as I compile Part Deux of my Nation-wide Trek. It involves a kitten, prairies, my toes, hummus, Colin’s butt, hot-hot-hot water, MOUNTAINS, and smiles 🙂