The following are entries in a notebook I picked up for the trip to Alberta.
Traveler’s Log - July
9, 1998.
I thought it would be
nice to try again at recording my thoughts, since tomorrow begins the longest
trip of my life so far, and this summer has encompassed some very significant
changes in my life. Let’s see … chronologically, I endured a strike at
Dalhousie University, participating in demonstrations in support of our
professors; I finished my undergraduate thesis, which was my most stressful
undertaking to date; I graduated with a Bachelor of Science (First Class
Honours) from Dalhousie; I moved out of my apartment of two years; I married
Pam (and I plan to spend lots of happy years at this endeavor); I parted
(hopefully temporarily) with my wonderful friends from Dal, and I parted
with my parents; and tomorrow I depart with Pam on a voyage across Canada
to Edmonton and the University of Alberta, where I’ll begin my Ph.D. What
then? Who can read the future?
Traveler’s Log - July
10, 1998.
Well, all there is now
to do is wait. Everything is packed in bags and boxes. We just need to
pack it all into the van. We’ve already packed a two-foot-tall 4 by 8 foot
trailer. I have no idea if the rest will fit. I may have to drive all the
way to Edmonton with a box of plants and a kitchen chair on my lap, but
I guess we’ll find out soon.
Traveler’s Log - July
11, 1998.
Well, it is just barely
6 a.m. on our first day of travel in the monster van. We left last night
from Little Anse at 11 p.m., and we’ve been on the road since then. We
have not, however, spent all of that time driving. Butch, our chauffeur,
has the odd nocturnal habit of stopping to take short snoozes. Our schedule
was something like 45 minutes on the road, and 15 minutes on the side,
for the latter portion of the night. Well, the weather is foggy and wet,
it is still a bit dark and the New Brunswick roads are bumpy, so I’ll leave
writing to a more suitable time.
Traveler’s Log - July
12, 1998.
It’s 7:25 local time
(8:25 Atlantic time) and we’ve been back on the road for about 15 minutes.
Bumpy road. The rest of yesterday was quite eventful. About half an hour
outside of North Bay, Ontario, we blew a tire on the van. I was driving,
and we were hurtling down a hill, when the van suddenly started shaking
and sliding back and forth. We carefully pulled off the road, and found
a smoking and destroyed tire. Taking off the trailer to jack up the back
of the van, we changed the tire. Unfortunately, the spare tire was not
optimum (are they ever?). It needed air, and the funny thing is that just
after we stopped, and were in the process of taking off the destroyed tire,
a fellow appeared who asked if we needed air. At that point, we had all
confidence that the spare would be fine, so we thanked him and said no.
This guy is worth mention
in his own right. He was driving a beat-up car and was accompanied by a
very young girl and a German Shepherd. He was towing a second beat-up car,
which he had packed to the gills. The guy appeared to be using the car
as a trailer.
So we managed to change
the tire, and there was enough air in the spare so that we could limp to
the first gas station. Nobody wanted to fix the tire that late at night,
but they were happy to supply air.
We looked for a motel
in North Bay, but found nothing. It was my impression, then, that we would
go again straight through the night, but fortunately we found a cheap place
just outside of Sudbury. How nice it was to shower and sleep in a bed.
These van seats may be big, but they certainly get cramped. Now, we are
fresh and back on the road for another day.
Traveler’s Log - July
13, 1998.
The excitement never
ceases! The rest of yesterday was uneventful. It was the night which
will be difficult to forget. I catch sleep at such odd times that it is
difficult to tell which event belonged to which day.
So we were travelling toward Dryden, Ontario
after midnight last night. We were driving on narrow roads down and down
and down. Flashes of lightning lit the sky. It was foggy and drizzly. Then
the fog cleared, leaving a bright moon and occasional pockets of mist.
I started to drive at around two. Down and down, past barreling trucks.
In Butch’s terms, I crawled.
I made it past the descent
and into Dryden. Butch offered to take over again, but I was ok, so I refused.
I shouldn’t have. I wanted to cross the Manitoba border. No such luck.
I got as far as 10 minutes out of Dryden when the van felt funny again.
The trailer was skidding back and forth. The now-familiar “you’ve got a
flat, pull over” issued from the back. I did, but not before sparks flew
from the trailer. Butch and I got out of the van to look at the damage.
We discovered no tire at all, and no rim and no hub. The axle had broken
off right at the wheel and half of the plate had been scraped away when
we skidded.
The mosquitoes were
terrible! Dozens flew in the van when we got out. We spent a fair amount
of time searching up and down the ditch for the tire. No luck. Finally,
we unhitched the trailer and headed back to Dryden with the hopes of finding
someone who could help us replace the axle in the morning. Some family
strife ensued, and Melissa (Butch’s daughter) was relegated to a motel,
accompanied by Sue and Tyler. Pam, Butch and I drove back to sleep in the
van beside the trailer. I hardly slept; caught myself snoring once. Trucks,
and even cars, as they sped by the van, sucked it toward the road and it
felt like it would turn over. Every vehicle (except for motorcycles) made
the van shake. Butch was up by five (local), looking for the tire. Pam
actually slept. Butch found the tire by six. The rod that had held the
hub to the axle was twisted off. At seven, we drove back to Dryden to see
who could help us.
The junk yard guy wasn’t
helpful. Getting past his German Shepherd was difficult enough. The welding
place to which he sent us seemed willing to help. They would build a new
axle with new tires, etc. for $450. No way!
So, we rented a U-Haul
trailer, repacked all our stuff in it, and were on our way. Good bye Dryden!
Good riddance!
We had to twist Butch’s
arm to get him to stop for brunch in Kenora, the last major town before
Manitoba. I’m so glad we did. It was beautiful! It was a small city, built
right next to a beautiful lake. We had an unsatisfying meal at Boston Pizza,
we sent our post cards, and I bought a lock for the U-Haul. We left Kenora,
and Sue drove after a while.
She crossed the Manitoba
border while I slept. The underside of our microwave got singed, as well
as three layers of rug, by a cigarette butt which flew back in the window.
We could smell something like burning wood. We kept looking for a saw mill.
Finally, we stopped, and discovered that the odor came from burning cardboard.
At the same stop, Pam and I discovered gophers for the first time. They’re
smaller than I thought.
Now, we are definitely
in the prairie, just passed Winnipeg, heading to Brandon. “Flat” doesn’t
begin to explain it. Once again, looking forward to Edmonton.
Settler’s Log - July
20, 1998.
Let us hope that my
recent poor attendance to this journal is less a sign of the future than
an indication of the present pandemonium.
From Manitoba, we kept
on driving, with only a few short stops. We drove through Monday night.
Driving at night through the prairies is an amazing experience for a Maritimer.
My only experience with vast flat areas is the open ocean. The highway
on the prairie is slightly elevated above the rest of the ground, so, at
night, when I couldn’t see my solid surroundings, I felt as if I was driving
along an endless bridge over the open ocean. This illusion was accentuated
when I actually did pass small bodies of water because, although I couldn’t
see their edges, I could see light from the full moon and distant towns
reflected in them.
So, late Tuesday morning,
we arrived in Calgary, where Butch dropped off Sue, Tyler and Melissa.
We stayed for an hour or so, then continued to Edmonton, a 3 hr. duration.
Butch’s wife accompanied us. I expect they wanted some time alone to discuss
the future of their marriage, since neither seemed ready to pick up and
move to the other’s province.
Once in Edmonton, we
drove to Ron’s (my step-mother’s ex-husband), emptied the van of our stuff
and dropped the U-Haul trailer in his back yard. Then it was time to pay
Butch for the trip and let him depart. To Pam’s and my great consternation,
he asked for $750!! He had originally been willing to have us along for
the trip for free, as long as we paid our own hotel and food. We had argued
that a help with gas would be appropriate, and he agreed that we should
help with whatever amount we thought correct. We thought that half the
gas, or about $400 would be plenty, but I guess we were in for a surprise.
Let me just say that
I’d rather not see Butch again.
We took an hour-or-so
to recuperate after reaching Ron’s, and then set out to look for apartments.
We started at the university (where I visited Alan Kingstone’s office,
but he wasn’t there), and worked our way around the main avenue. Absolutely
no luck! Vacancies were not to be found. Disappointment and fear set in.
We had only until Friday to return the U-Haul before paying astronomic
late charges.
Wednesday, we went out
searching again, widening our search, but without better results. Housing
services at the university said that the vacancy rate was much worse this
year. While Pam made calls to prospective apartments, I went again to visit
Alan. This time he was in his office. What a neat guy! Very young, and
extremely enthusiastic! Also, there were a couple of the grad students
with whom I’ll be working. Stayed at Ron’s again Wednesday night.
Thursday, our luck changed.
Near the end of the day, we found an apartment on the North side of the
North Saskatchewan river (the University is on the South side).
