Do Canadian Boulders Have Legs?

*** continued from previous post ***


We settled back, each in our own silence, the bike humming beneath us. The drone of the engine was rhythmic - melodic. A soft purring lullaby that, were I not running on adrenaline, would have made me sleepy.

We continued on for about 10 minutes, both of us relaxing by the yard, and finally able to appreciate the beauty that surrounded us as we broke from trees to meadow and back to forest again. There was a small creek running through the valley, and a series of postcard like lakes nestled in the low spots. I had hope. So did your Mom, I could feel it in the way she held onto my sides.

We came around a particularly tight corner, the bike slipping sideways a bit as we rounded the apex, and something caught my eye. The stands of trees on my left were sparse with lots of brush and grass in between. The stand on my right was much thicker and denser, almost shutting out what little light was left. I noticed something on my left, and about 20 feet, (Yes FEET! Screw metrics!), off the road.

"Hmmmmm. . . .", I said to myself, "Why would someone park a rusted '57 Buick up here? That seems odd."

I got a little closer and chuckled to myself. Oh my silly, tired, eyes were playing tricks on me. That wasn't a '57 Buick, it was a van abandoned in the woods.

A little closer and I realized that it wasn't an auto at all, but a large, reddish-brown boulder. Which made much more sense except for one thing - the boulder was moving. Rather quickly. And towards us.

And another odd thing . . . this boulder had legs.

Now, I know that things are a tad different up in Canada, but not so different that rocks walk about all by themselves. The only time I saw that was once in the '70s. And I may have been - well, let's just leave that story for another day.

So what fresh madness was this?

*** the journey continues ***

The Road Never Gets Wider or Flatter or Better

*** continued from previous post ***


Now, it was about this time that we started seeing the warnings for Bears tacked to sign-posts every . . . oh, I don't know . . . every ten feet or so. I didn't want your mother to worry, so I tried to distract her whenever one drew near. "Hey," I would say and point in the opposite direction, "is that a squirrel?" Or, "Quick! Look over there! What kind of bird is that?" Or, "Look! Carnival rides!" Much to my chagrin I don't believe it worked.

We passed the Nordic Centre, (Motto: "Nothing Sinister Going On Here. Certainly No Cloning. Please Move Along."), and happened on our first bit of good news in what was proving to be one of the longest days of our lives. A sign. Literally.

"Look!", Mom shouted in the first true enthusiasm I'd heard from her since leaving home, "The sign says, ‘Hidden Valley Lodge - 40 Kilometers', we're going the right way!"

I thought about adding, 'You had any doubts?', but decided that silence and a smile were more apropos.

As we passed the Nordic Centre's entrance, the wide, flat tarmac began to narrow. While the surface was fine, the width closed in on itself going from a very wide two-lane, to a narrow two-lane with no markings, to a wide one-lane road. Not a problem. Others had traveled this path. In addition to guests at the Lodge, I reasoned that there had to be delivery trucks, carriers, etc. that supplied the Lodge and whatever else was up there. I relaxed. I felt as though our 'day from Hell' was at last coming to a close.

Then, the road began to climb. Ha. Not a problem. Then the road REALLY began to climb. Still no problem. Then the road . . . well it just kind of ended into a ridiculously steep one-lane gravel path with washboards deeper than speed bumps.

This might be a problem.

Let me pause and give you a bit of advice that will serve you well in the years to come. When you hear yourself saying, "Oh, well I'll just go a bit further, I'm sure there will be someplace to turn around." --- just turn around. NOW. No good will ever come of this situation. The road never gets wider, or better, or flatter. The only thing you can expect to encounter taking this route is madness. Madness and death. I know this now, and I knew this then. So why, in the name of all that is holy, did I push on?

It's simple really. I'm an idiot.

*** the journey continues ***