It Can't Be Far Now

*** continued from previous post ***


As we progressed the road curved to the right, and I thought for a moment that we were going to skirt the back side of the cliff and escape the water all together but . . . no. It swung back on itself and headed straight for where the water met the cliff. Fine. Drowning seemed like a fairly quick death of which I was sure your Mother would agree, so I pushed on.

Fortunately, the road didn't end! HA! Our luck was improving! I hadn't been able to see, but the road actually skirted between the cliff and the lake! Now here is what made it so weird - the level of the lake was possibly an inch below the road level. Lake on one side, cliff on the other, it looked like we were driving on water. It may have been exhaustion or hypothermia, but it was one of the most bizarre optical illusions I've ever encountered. It actually made my stomach flutter.

Mom leaned forward and said, "Well, this is just unreal. It feels like we're driving on the lake."

Yes. Yes it does.

We drove on and on around the lake for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably more like 4 minutes. Or 17.6 Kiloseconds. Whatever. The point being it was long enough. Up ahead I saw that the lake ended, as well as the cliff, and the road, (Yay!), continued on through an extraordinarily beautiful meadow. I breathed a sigh of relief. Which immediately fogged my glasses and I didn't tell your Mom but for the last quarter mile or so I was driving purely on instinct. I don't think she would have appreciated, nor been amused by my mad riding skills.
As we traveled further from the lake the road improved a bit. Now there were brief sections where there were no washboards and the gravel was packed down firmly. I bumped the speed up a few notches. The Lodge couldn't be far now.

We began to climb a little, and the road deteriorated once again. The path became narrower, and instead of lush meadow we were heading into a stand of forest. Big trees on each side with the road cutting a swath between them.

I leaned back, "You doing okay Babe?"

"Yeah. Fine. Funny, 2 hours ago riding on this part of the road would have scared me to death. After coming through what we just did, it seems like a well maintained freeway."
I nodded in agreement. "I'm exhausted, but the place can't be too far now."

Yes. The place can't be far now. That became my mantra.

*** the journey continues ***

Never Waste a Good Emotion

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I collected myself enough to take a further assessment of the situation.

The road had leveled out - and thank the Gods for that - but the path that lie ahead looked like . . . well, like we were going to be driving possibly THROUGH or INTO a lake. Seriously.
The tiny voice inside said, "Sure. Why not?"

STFU internal voice or I swear to God that I will lobotomize myself here and now. Where's that screwdriver?

"Let's get going," Mom said, and settled back into her seat. "I really, really, really, really need to be off the bike."

Wuss. We had only been riding for . . . okay, we'd been riding for about 13 hours. Still, that's no reason to get testy. I made a mental note to have a talk with your Mom about her attitude. But not right now. Probably not this week. Sometime after Halloween seemed safe. And then I would put it in a letter and make sure I was out of town when she read it.
With another sigh I pulled back onto the gravel and back onto the track. An old sound clip from MSTK3000 popped into my head, (Yeah, it was getting crowded in there.), and said, "Off to meet my doom Mom. See you after school!"

So we putted along the gravel towards the lake. It was definitely easier going now that the road was not at an insane angle, but it was getting very soft between the washboards. 15 mph was about the max speed. Any faster and I felt like my fillings were going to rattle out of my teeth.

As we approached the water the view grew more and more disconcerting. Ahead was a lake. Big lake. Deep lake. On the right side was a sheer rock cliff that rose, from what appeared to be directly from the water, to a height of maybe 150 feet. Or 7000 grams in hell-measure. Naught but water on the left. The road looked like it simply ended.

I wanted to cry, but no one would have heard me and I don' know about you, but that just seems a waste.


*** the journey continues ***

The Ever Elusive Canadian Hawk-Toad

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Mom and I walk down to the edge of the lake and the girl, with some alarm in her voice, yells, "Watch out for the toads!"

Mom and I look at each other, scan the parking area, and then look at each other again. I see no toads. Mom sees no toads. There ain't no stinkin' toads around here.

"They're all over the place!", the girl remarks with more than a bit of agitation as she makes a broad sweeping gesture of the parking area, the lake, and the grass beyond, "I don't want any more to die."

Now that's a curious statement, I think to myself. I look again for toads. I even look in the trees. Maybe this is the nesting place of the elusive Canadian Hawk-Toad that I have read so much about in journals of lesser credibility. But no, nary a Hawk-Toad to be seen. However, I have my wits about me, and decide that a gentle approach to this delusional female is the correct response rather than, "WTF are you talking about?".

"Well of course not," I answer gently, ever so gently, and begin to back away slowly, ever so slowly. "Who would?" Still, I see nothing. Nary a toad, nor toad like thing anywhere. Mom looks at me questioningly. I shrug my shoulders, and nod towards the bike intimating it may be time to depart, stage left.

"I don't know what to do, it just makes me so sad.", the girl says.

"And who can blame you?", I say, in what I hope are non-judgmental tones as I tug at Mom's arm, smiling but careful not to show too many teeth in case she interpreters my smile as an act of aggression and strangles me right there in front of God and everybody with her Ipod cord while the last words I hear on this earth are Dave Mathew's singing, 'Everybody asks me how she’s doing, Has she really lost her mind? I said, I couldn’t tell you I’ve lost mine.'

And as we both know, that just ain't right. That's not a warrior's death.

Now believe me, and all kidding aside, (I KNOW there are no Hawk-Toads. That's just a slogan to sell T-Shirts to the tourists), I'm still looking for the toads. I want to believe her. This girl is VERY concerned - very genuine in her dismay, but despite my best efforts I'm seeing nothing. With all my heart and soul I hope to see a toad, just so I can put her at ease. Validate her reality, if you know what I mean. But nada. Zip. The big EL Zero on the toad front.


*** the journey continues tomorrow. Commenters will be eaten. ***

The Ballad of Toad-Splat Curve

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Where was I?

Oh! The rest stop!

Okay, so we come to the rest stop beside this absolutely GORGEOUS blue-sparkled lake nestled at the base of a particularly spectacular mountain. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, at least I think they are. Canadians like to drive fast. I mean FAST. No, even faster than that! So I can't really hear too much other than an occasional sonic-boom as yet another SUV blows by.

There are two driving speeds in Canada: One; so slow you want to tear your face off, and two; so fast you want to tear their face off. It's like the 'Fast and the Furious' without the 'Furious'. More like the 'Fast and Extremely Cordial'. But I'm from "THE STATES", so, I'm a rebel - an 'Merican. I go any damn speed I want. I shift out of Warp 3, slow, make the turn, and glide down the gently sloping parking lot to the edge of the lake, do a quick "swoosh" of a u-turn, and then point the bike uphill for an easy egress.

There is one other car here, with a young woman that casts furtive and concerned glances in our direction, but relaxes as we de-gear and she hears us talk to each other in loving tones. It would have been great fun if Mom would have jumped off the bike, ripped off her helmet, and back-handed me as she screamed, "Why you stop the bike bitch? Did I TELL you to stop the bike?". But alas, she does not, so we are immediately cast as 'the-cute-older-couple-on-the-motorcycle-that-are-obviously-in-love-and-having-a-great-time-and-will-probably-not-stab-me-in-the-heart'.

I know, it's a curse, but someone has to bear the burden of giving the world hope - might as well be us. The point being, I watched her visibly relax. A little. Although, somehow I had a feeling this girl was in a constant state of flummox.

She is in her twenties. Are all women in Canada in a perpetual state of mid-20s? Probably. Although, on second glance this young lady might have been a bit older. Not more than 35 anyway. Slender, but not with the 'I-just-ate-a-sandwich-and-I'll-be-full-for-a-week-unless-I-throw up' kind of look, but rather a 'I'm-very-active-and-I-like-to-hike-and-listen-to-Dave Mathews-on-my-Ipod-and-I've-had-lattes-named-after-me-in-the-coffee-shop-where-I-play-my-guitar-on-Saturday-afternoons-so-I'm-more-hip-than-you-are' look. More than likely a Vegan. She doesn't have the look of meat about her, if you know what I mean.

Mom and I walk down to the edge of the lake and the girl, with some alarm in her voice, yells, "Watch out for the toads!"



*** the journey continues tomorrow. Those who comment will be eaten. ***