Monday, May 19th, 2008
I left the house with no real plan; just me and my reliable traveling companion, the Dakota. I packed way too much, left 2 hours late, and had no idea what to expect. So far so good. The plan was not to plan. Plan for spontaneity, which for me is much harder than one might expect, it means I have to disregard my old favourites, ‘Structure’, ‘Organization’, and ‘Control’.
The first leg took me south and west across the BC-Alberta boarder to Osoyoos, where I am currently hunkered down in my little tent typing away by the glow of my HP laptop (ahh yes, the world we live in). The 821km stretch of road represented the philosophy that is driving my Great American Adventure; a free path swaying back and forth through the rough mountainous terrain, bound by nothing but its own creativity. Highway 3 pushed forward through the Crowsnest with out a worry. At times the road would dip southwards and swing around an entire family of foothills, only to charge up the next rise and tumble carelessly into a deep river valley. Like the secondary highway, my trip is that white feather blowing in the wind throughout the movie Forrest Gump; not bound by a schedule and free to be affected by its surroundings. Unlike the feather, my adventure has an inner driver, the pursuit of the unknown. Today the Crowsnest was my unknown. Every turn presented a new scene, and while the area felt very familiar to this Boy of the southern Alberta outdoors, I was constantly slowing the truck to get a better look at the latest showcase. Just a beautiful drive. 
I left the house with no real plan; just me and my reliable traveling companion, the Dakota. I packed way too much, left 2 hours late, and had no idea what to expect. So far so good. The plan was not to plan. Plan for spontaneity, which for me is much harder than one might expect, it means I have to disregard my old favourites, ‘Structure’, ‘Organization’, and ‘Control’.The first leg took me south and west across the BC-Alberta boarder to Osoyoos, where I am currently hunkered down in my little tent typing away by the glow of my HP laptop (ahh yes, the world we live in). The 821km stretch of road represented the philosophy that is driving my Great American Adventure; a free path swaying back and forth through the rough mountainous terrain, bound by nothing but its own creativity. Highway 3 pushed forward through the Crowsnest with out a worry. At times the road would dip southwards and swing around an entire family of foothills, only to charge up the next rise and tumble carelessly into a deep river valley. Like the secondary highway, my trip is that white feather blowing in the wind throughout the movie Forrest Gump; not bound by a schedule and free to be affected by its surroundings. Unlike the feather, my adventure has an inner driver, the pursuit of the unknown. Today the Crowsnest was my unknown. Every turn presented a new scene, and while the area felt very familiar to this Boy of the southern Alberta outdoors, I was constantly slowing the truck to get a better look at the latest showcase. Just a beautiful drive.
The Crowsnest was out to impress today. Not only did the bright sky highlight the ever changing landscape, but it seemed that every new stretch of road had a nice gathering of supporters. From the groups of deer and the many mountain goats, to the crazy black bear that scurried across the road right in front of me, I felt like the Pass was showing off. And I dug it. Even the cows seemed happier today. Mind you these are Crowsnest cows, free to choose between the open grass, the cozy hillside brush, or the healthy patch of trees. I believe they are living the cow dream (poor Sask cows with their overwhelming sky line and clear view of the slaughter house).
After surviving 22x (who decided to jinks this highway by naming it 22 EEEEEEEXXXX, real funny, maybe 22a would have worked, or 22b, or 22(heart), hell at least 22-Road-of-Death isn’t trying to hide anything…) I cut down south along highway 22. Slowly the flat Alberta Prairie stepped aside and I found the foothills. By the time I made it to highway 3 I was so into the road trip that I had turned off the music in the truck and just drove the open road. The drive was the tourist attraction today. As I moved through Creston I keep a sharp eye out for the Kokanee Ranger, but I think the ‘Ranger-live-or-die’ dilemma is keeping him pretty occupied. I am however still in Samsquanch territory…
I pulled into Osoyoos just before 8pm Pacific time. It had been a nice leisurely commute and with the sun just slinking away, I was happy to see that I would be setting up camp before dark. I grabbed a spot at the Shady Lagoon Campsite, which is a nice little hideaway just outside the town, tucked up against the lake. I fired up the Coleman stove, cracked a can of soup and threw my tent up in no time. As I ate right out of the pot and looked out at the lake as dusk moved in on me, I felt good about my first day of Tramping it up. With in the next 20 minutes I had destroyed my luck, killed my calm, peaceful state of mind, and overloaded my body with adrenaline: it took less then a day for me to lock the keys in the truck.
I have never locked a set of keys in a vehicle before in my life, but on the first day of my big adventure, as darkness drenched the campsite, I was standing outside the Dakota, over 800km away from home, with not one, but two sets of keys on the wrong side of the locked door. I’ll spare you the details of the 15 minutes between the door shutting and my crazy Houdini act that has lead me to this point, but needless to say it was a touch overwhelming. I almost broke my arm, and was one more failed attempt away from breaking down and having a tantrum, but with a little strength and the Magic touch of Jackson MiniTramp, the Adventure continues!!! Plus what would the first day of an amazing adventure be if there wasn’t a little blood, sweat, and tears (the key ingredients for my secret Houdini maneuver). Never again! Never again will I lock a set of keys in a vehicle again, my nerves can’t handle it.
After surviving 22x (who decided to jinks this highway by naming it 22 EEEEEEEXXXX, real funny, maybe 22a would have worked, or 22b, or 22(heart), hell at least 22-Road-of-Death isn’t trying to hide anything…) I cut down south along highway 22. Slowly the flat Alberta Prairie stepped aside and I found the foothills. By the time I made it to highway 3 I was so into the road trip that I had turned off the music in the truck and just drove the open road. The drive was the tourist attraction today. As I moved through Creston I keep a sharp eye out for the Kokanee Ranger, but I think the ‘Ranger-live-or-die’ dilemma is keeping him pretty occupied. I am however still in Samsquanch territory…
I pulled into Osoyoos just before 8pm Pacific time. It had been a nice leisurely commute and with the sun just slinking away, I was happy to see that I would be setting up camp before dark. I grabbed a spot at the Shady Lagoon Campsite, which is a nice little hideaway just outside the town, tucked up against the lake. I fired up the Coleman stove, cracked a can of soup and threw my tent up in no time. As I ate right out of the pot and looked out at the lake as dusk moved in on me, I felt good about my first day of Tramping it up. With in the next 20 minutes I had destroyed my luck, killed my calm, peaceful state of mind, and overloaded my body with adrenaline: it took less then a day for me to lock the keys in the truck.
I have never locked a set of keys in a vehicle before in my life, but on the first day of my big adventure, as darkness drenched the campsite, I was standing outside the Dakota, over 800km away from home, with not one, but two sets of keys on the wrong side of the locked door. I’ll spare you the details of the 15 minutes between the door shutting and my crazy Houdini act that has lead me to this point, but needless to say it was a touch overwhelming. I almost broke my arm, and was one more failed attempt away from breaking down and having a tantrum, but with a little strength and the Magic touch of Jackson MiniTramp, the Adventure continues!!! Plus what would the first day of an amazing adventure be if there wasn’t a little blood, sweat, and tears (the key ingredients for my secret Houdini maneuver). Never again! Never again will I lock a set of keys in a vehicle again, my nerves can’t handle it.
The rowdy family reunion that made up the seventeen campsite around me as died down and now there is just the soothing sounds of nature… which oddly enough sound a whole lot like the sounds of the ‘dark and scary forest’ that sets the stage for far too many Horror films.
Day One: It doesn’t matter how many sets of keys you have, there is always a way to lock yourself out of your car.
Day One: It doesn’t matter how many sets of keys you have, there is always a way to lock yourself out of your car.
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