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.