chapter 71: The prairies: so flat you can see the future...or are they?

Honestly, the prairie provinces were the part of this trip I was least looking forward to. Okay, Edmonton sucks (sorry) but the rest of Alberta and Saskatchewan has been better than expected. From the ice fields to the badlands, to a virtual desert in the middle of farmer's fields, there is some breathtaking and unexpected mad scientist shit going on.

Driving north of Calgary, you go through flat, bright yellow canola fields, until suddenly a huge Arizona-like canyon opens up in front of you, which by the way, you can climb down into and get lost and sweaty for a couple hours. Ahem. Anyway, it's the start of the area of Alberta where more species of dinosaur fossils have been found than anywhere in the world.

Then, driving into Saskatchewan, the same thing happens, only this time it's sand hills where nothing really grows - think Saudi Arabia. A small piece of Saudi Arabian desert. But fewer sheikhs.

Les nombres:
-nights in hotel: 2
-with family/friends: 8
-nights camping: 10
-buffalo spotted: 4
-pairs of eyeglasses recovered: 1!
-kilometres traveled: 9,424

chapter 70: Dawson City time warp

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold
“The Cremation of Sam McGee” by Robert Service, Dawson City Poet

Northern BC is beautiful, but there is something both romantic and unsettling about the Yukon. The tourism slogan is “Larger than life”. It's vast and empty, but breathtaking. Comforting, yet unsettling, and stuck in a time warp in more ways than one.

I spent my first full day at the beautiful Tombstone Territorial Park. Even though I
knew about it, the midnight sun still took me by surprise. We time our lives to the setting of the sun subconsciously. I set up camp, went hiking, built a fire, and didn't even realize I was hungry until it was 10:30pm. Dusk came around 1am, then a couple hours of light grey, then the sun came out again. Weird.
The first casualty of the trip came on the amazing but treacherous Dempster Highway. The rutted gravel road that runs all the way to Inuvik, Northwest Territories ripped one of my tires to shreds, and cut short my bid for the arctic circle and the 'other' territory. After putting on a temporary tire, I decided the travel gods didn't want me there, and headed for Dawson City.

The Dawson City Music Festival is renowned for its lively vibe and friendly crowd. It's a strange feeling to party under perpetual daylight alongside refugees from the 70's. Long haired burnouts do their freaky dances beside bohemian girls in flower dresses, while packs of scruffy teenagers roam around hiding their beer and looking at girls. It's like the cast of “Dazed and Confused”, but it's not the 70's or the 90's.

Meanwhile, the rest of the city is stuck in the early 1900's. Old-timey facades have been re-created advertising an era long past, alongside new businesses disguised in turn of the century clothes. Everything looks new, but is supposed to be old. Nothing is real. Dawson City became the centre of the Canadian gold rush in the late 1800's, and a city sprung up almost overnight. Without tourism, nobody would be here, and the city would die almost as fast. So everyone lives in the past, and invites visitors to do the same – more information available on the internet of course! But that's not in the pamphlets.

By the numbers:
-kilometres traveled: 4,268
-bears sighted: 4
-police sirens heard: 0
-eyeglasses lost: 1
-flat tires: 1

chapter 69: the long road north

Day 6.

After having spent a couple beach days in Tofino-Ucluelet and then a couple more at my Dad's, Silken and I are tearing ass north. After leaving Parksville on Monday morning, I've spent the last two days driving nearly 1,500 kilometres, 8-10 hours on the road each day. I have to do about 1,800 more to get to Dawson city by Friday for the start of the music festival. I know, life is so hard. I never want to get out of the car, because the roads are empty and I can motor through while rocking out to a random selection of every album I've ever liked. Suh-weet.

Yesterday, I drove through the Stein Valley to Lillooet, and then today the Bulkley Valley and Smithers. I hiked to where two glacier-fed waterfalls converge and make an icy river. I stupidly waded in of course, and immediately froze.

There are so many amazing parks in BC, so camping has been a lot of fun. After a long day of driving, there's nothing better than taking some time to unwind, then staring at a campfire for a couple hours. Trust me, it's fun. Some more fun facts:
Kilometres traveled: 2,069
Animals killed: One bird (hit windshield)
Sunglasses lost: 1
Wrong turns taken: 2
Dirty looks from hitchhikers after I drove by: 7, or 8 if you count the guy I drove by twice after making a wrong turn

Minor bitches:
-when camping, everything, including the camper, is guaranteed to get smoky, plus wet or dirty or both.
-I am too lazy to duct tape the fabric on the car ceiling. The hole in it exposes me to a shower of fossilized adhesive particles every time I open the sunroof. Probably not too healthy. Fix this tomorrow, or if not possible tomorrow, at some point in the not-too-worried-about-it-future.

chapter 68: the Canada chronicles

I've done it. In just three weeks, I've redefined my existence (again). I've gleefully gotten rid of almost everything I own. I've irresponsibly left a good job. I've willfully disappointed some family, friends and colleagues. But in so doing, I've overthrown that fascist dictator we call “life”. And It's easier than you might think to spontaneously throw it all away. New slogan: Impatience – it's worth the wait.

Thursday, I threw my now-meagre possessions into my 1989 Volvo, my Swedish traveling companion, hereafter referred to as Silken. Silken is a boxy throwback with some mileage on her, but she's a chanp. And she's never been accused of cheating. First stop: Tofino.

This will be a truly epic journey. Canada is a hugely gifted, diverse, and of course, immense expanse of land. The distances are mind boggling. I've always thought of it as a travel buzzkill. Canadians have to go further than almost anyone else on the planet to reach exotic climes, especially Westerners.

But distance can be your friend. It's 2400 kilometres to Dawson City alone. That will be just a prelude of what's to come.

Silken and I will take our chances on bumpy logging roads through towering rainforests. We'll try to avoid gravel road showers under eerie constant daylight in the far north. We'll follow the ribbon of the Trans-Canada Highway on the backs of immigrant slaves, through wild mountains, and blood-red prairie sunsets We'll cruise gaudy, riotous cities in eight lane comfort. And we'll trace the rocky coastline that welcomed the first visitors to Canada.

I'm making playlists for the road as we speak.