Desperado, I Ain't Gettin' No Younger

Yet another selfie in Yoho

One of the biggest surprises on this journey from Ontario to BC is that I'm not as comfortable being alone with myself as I once was, or as I thought I was. I believe I can link this to an incident in July.

I was racing to Elora to rent a tube to float down the Grand River through the Gorge. I've done it before, it was no big deal. A very leisurely float. I even assured the ladies heading out before me that it was completely safe. They couldn't possibly injure themselves. But, the attendant did warn them to get into their tubes after the rapids, which are a little further upstream. As I was walking to the river, I saw a couple of emergency vehicles which I assumed were doing routine practice runs for extracting people from the gorge (I was wrong. A man had broken his leg and needed to be lifted out by ropes!)

Anywhhhay, I watched a family go over the rapids we had been warned to stay away from and, although the mom was freaking out (as mom's do), everyone came out the other side unscathed. So, I decided I was gonna give it a go. On closer inspection, this was not just some rapids. It was a drop over a ridge of about two feet. I'm gonna call it a two foot waterfall. So, when I went over the chute, I lost my tube and I was pushed down to the bottom of the fairly shallow river and was unable to get back up to the surface.

Eventually, I was spat out from the grip of the current and bounced along the various boulders on the river bottom for about 50 meters before I could catch my breath and find my feet underneath me. My legs were shaking so badly and I was in so much pain, particularly in my tailbone, that I could barely make it to the river's edge. It was hard to stand, it was even harder to sit... and it was even harder to holler to the two young ladies taking selfies across the river that I needed them to call 911. My pride was hurt, but I had to admit there was no way I was gonna walk out of there.

Smart, capable, interesting young people... and some mountains

The emergency extraction was comical and I'm damn glad I wasn't dying. The regular emergency crew must have been busy with broken-leg-guy because my team (although they looked good enough to eat in their fancy, red, water-gear, uniforms) were unable to get me out of the gorge without significant help from myself. They also had trouble finding whatever attachments were supposed to keep me from falling off the stretcher. When I finally got to the ambulance, after being jostled, tossed, rolled and flipped, the RMTs had the nerve to put a neck brace on me. Bitch, if my neck wasn't broken by now, after all the hell I've just been through, a brace is sure as hell not going to help me on the ride to the hospital. When I did arrive, the nurses asked me how much pain I was in, left me in wet clothes on a bed and rolled me into a utility closet for almost 2 hours. Clearly, I was not at risk of dying in their opinion. So, I got my legs working and signed my broken ass out of there.

My point is, while I was sitting there at the side of the river, with my legs spread out, crotch all pubey, snot dripping down my face because I needed both hands to support my weight and couldn't spare a hand to wipe my tears away, the Park Ranger asked if there was anyone he could call on my behalf. I had to say, "no". And while this isn't necessarily true, I felt at the time that my family and friends were all too far away to be bothered to see me though this trauma. 

Dogs are the best

Fast forward to this amazing cross-country trip where every other road sign explains what might kill me next - bears, falling rocks, runaway trucks, avalanches - and I've realized I don't really feel comfortable being alone anymore. What could be worse than a misanthrope who doesn't want to be alone? Not only is it extremely boring taking selfies in front of every landmark from UFO landing pads to Giant Pierogies, it is also hard to pass the time driving ten hours a day with no radio stations and intermittent cell service during pee breaks. 

But, I still like hiking, right? Well, here's the thing. I chose a difficult, seven-hour hike straight up Whistler's Peak outside Jasper this week. I love a challenge! However, the hikes in the Rocky Mountains aren't necessarily just about strength, stamina and determination. I had my water bottle and my cell phone and my shitty Asshole-o hiking boots, but everyone passing me or coming back down was in full MEC gear, complete with bear bells, back packs and poles. This made me second guess myself. Then, I started to get on the fear train. You know the one, I'm sure. The one that starts out "You didn't bring enough water" "This trail is awfully slippery and/or rocky" "I think I hear a bear" "Is my arm tingling? Am I having a heart attack?" "I'm going to fall head first onto one of these rocks and they won't find my body until spring." CHOO CHOO!! I arrived at Panic Station and was just about to turn around when...

I backed into a gawdamn tree, ripped my moulding off

The motherfucking air raid siren from the metropolis of Jasper starts to whirr, followed by what sounds like forty emergency vehicle sirens. Immediately, I think there's an avalanche and we're all going to die. Well, you have never seen a chubby girl race down some switchbacks as fast as I did that day. Slippery rocks be damned, I was getting the fuck out of mountain country and if I never see another gawdamn view from above the tree line, I'll be okay with that!

It would appear that this trip has forced me to re-evaluate who I am or who I am becoming. Some of my best experiences have been, not quietly contemplating the beauty of my country on my own, but rather sharing knowledge with the people I've met along the way; Swapping life stories over breakfast, jive-dancing with men who have no right to be that limber in their 80s, learning funny Japanese phrases about helpful cats, proudly reflecting on a job well done with a co-worker, and  trying to say "squirrel" in German.

Yes, I'm having the time of my life out here on the road with no one to answer to but myself. However, most of the time I'm thinking about how nice it will be to get back to Ontario and see all my people. 

You can check out any time you like...

        I think I might be to blame for Burt Reynolds death. I was watching Smokey and the Bandit II on the dish last week and I had to give him a Google to see what he was up to. It didn't occur to me that the Bandit would have aged. So, when I saw a recent picture, I thought, "Shit, he's not long for this world!" Sure enough, he was not.

        What bothers me is, I was prophetic in another way, as well. Case in point, while celebrating my father's birthday with a family dinner, I told my step-mom that I was going to pay for some of the meal because I was probably going to need to ask for much more money in a couple of months; and I quote, "I don't need your stinking $20 for dinner, Cheryl. You and I both know I'm going to be calling you from Alberta, crying because I need to be airlifted off a mountain and the bill is $2000."

        Fortunately, I don't need to be airlifted, but I haven't even made it to Saskatchewan yet. My car has a slow leak in the radiator causing it to overheat and my wheel bearing needs to be replaced because it sounds like the screeching brakes of a Go Train through Union Station. It's only going to cost $1300, so my fortune telling is somewhat exaggerated. 

... or the temperature is set to
Holyshityourcarisfuct

    I was panicked today when I saw the temperature gauge of my little Kia creeping up to the H (H for HolyShitYourCarIsFuct). This happened to me just last Christmas, dammit. But, this time, I'm 2500 km from home and CAA does not cover that. So the first thing I did was call my dad. 

        Next, I Googled the address of a local mechanic, who told me to bring it right in. Unfortunately, Google said the Auto Repair shop was in Russell, MB, when in fact it was in Roblin, MB... 40 minutes north of Russell. 

        Now, I'm quite enjoying my stay here on the western border of Manitoba. The people here are never angry. They don't care if you go the 90 km speed limit (on gravel roads, no less!!!) because there's always room to drive around. They always have time to answer your questions or give you a wave and a friendly smile... or a hug. I even had someone stop to see if I was alright within seconds of pulling over to check under my hood.  But, I'll tell you what... Google doesn't know shit about this area. No one has reviewed ANYTHING. This place has two provincial parks, a national park, a ski hill, a huuuuuge lake and half a dozen golf courses, but as far as Google is concerned, "Ain't nothing to see here."

        Anyway, as long as I turned the heat and the fan on, my car remained steady in between the C and the H. I was able to drive to the repair shop without having to turn my car off every 80 seconds, where I received the bad news. But, I did get a hug from a woman getting an oil change who seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.

Me, being terrified of this huge bull

        So, here's the other crazy thing. I'm staying here in Inglis with the most amazing couple. Real go-getters. They work all day at their various day jobs and side hustles, all while inviting strangers to stay in their home (with an excellent WiFi connection, I might add). Rick and Karen have hosted quite a few people from all over the world, including the girl from Poland who fell in love and decided to stay here. I was also introduced to the Australian lad who came last year and just never left. Another young woman came for a month from some other European country and she decided to stay, too. A guy walking the Trans-Canada Trail stayed for a week even though he intended to just pass through.

        I'm not saying Inglis isn't great. I love it. It's beautiful, peaceful, has great, inspiring people and lots of gainful employment opportunities. They have wing night Wednesdays at the bar, the occasional barn dance and beautiful night sky views. But, I can't understand why so many people arrive and just don't leave.

        Then it hit me... they don't have a choice. Suddenly, their car starts to overheat and they can't afford to get it fixed so they're stuck here and they have to hook up with some young farmboy who drives a Dodge and the next thing you know, they are harvesting canola every fall and spreading manure in the spring. 

        Cue the banjoes from Deliverance (another Burt Reynolds link!)

 "Sometimes you have to
 lose yourself 'fore you can
find anything" - Lewis Medlock
 (Burt Reynolds) in Deliverance, 1972.

      As it stands, I'm getting the part shipped from Winnipeg and I should be heading out from here by tomorrow afternoon. I've thoroughly enjoyed my experiences, which include: driving a golf cart, beautiful river valleys, riding in a combine, watching hawks hunt in cut fields of wheat, unlimited access to a well-stocked fridge, driving a Jetta onto a ski hill, seeing a grain of wheat fresh out of the field and seeing five sunrises and five sunsets. 

        I haven't quite decided if I will continue west after Saskatchewan.

PS. Deliverance was a movie about 4 men travelling down the Cahulawasee River before the natural wilderness area of Georgia was to be flooded by a dam. The inspiration for this fictional waterway was the Coosawattee River, which was flooded in the early 70s. The Lake of Prairies that I visited just west of Inglis, was also flooded in 1972, after the 8 year construction of a dam to prevent flooding in Winnipeg. Creepy.