Camping with L.B: Canoe Safety

Continuation of Camping with LB: Bathroom Etiquette

If you look close enough, you can see my middle finger.
 I'm in no way giving it to you.
I'm expressing how I feel about camping without a lake.

Young's Point, Alberta


CANOE SAFETY

 The best things in life may be free, but the best kind of camping includes a damn lake. I assume it's why being a "Canoe Trip Leader" was indeed the best job of my life. It came with touches of danger, more than a few embarrassing moments, hard work, early rises and a lot of preparation. It was all worth it once I was out on that water, listening to the sounds of my paddle dip in and out.

I miss the days of blisters and sunburns, I miss the day long paddles and the portaging. I miss the wild. I miss the combined smell of sunblock, bug propellant and campfire in my hair. I miss the open water, the marshlands and the forest. There is one definite thing I do not miss. What I don't miss, is looking like a complete fucking idiot in front of children in my care. I don't miss it at all. 

For your entertainment however, I will relive these moments, because I'm nice like that. 

It was another typical summer day in the middle of Algonquin Park as I made my way down the light rapids of a small meandering river. I had campers in my care and the help of another leader about my age. I didn't forget the tent poles, bears hadn't eaten our food and for once I hadn't tripped or fallen to the tune of laughing kids.
 

The trip was only a few days in, and spirits were high. As we continued around the bends of the river I kept my eyes open for the upcoming portage (being the leader means being aware of shit like this...and not telling the campers till you get there so they don't whine for too long).

When we found our short 400m portage, I was a bit confused. The river seemed to bend around the land making it appear as though you could just keep going. 

I am "smarter" than that of course, I always follow the signs and stick with the plan when it comes to life far from emergency services, and I follow the map. It is a provincial park after all, and that shit is important. Just ask David Suzuki.

As we beached our canoes on the soft gradual shore, I began to unload the contents of my canoe on to the sand. I was feeling pumped for a short stint of hard work when I heard one of the campers start to scream. 

"The canoe!" she shrieked, "its getting away!"

Oh holy hell of course it it's floating away down the rapids, it's the canoe with all the food in it. 

It is important to note that while trippin' campers were always told to wear their bathing suit under their clothes. It was also common knowledge that I never followed this rule, as I was out all summer and there is no way wearing a bathing suit for a summer is good for my downstairs. 

I yelled down to the camper telling her to swim after it, as she dig have a suit under her shorts and t-shirt. I didn't think it was a major task. I watched the canoe float out into the narrow river and I pictured it following the current and never coming back. Not in one piece anyhow, I mean, why else would there be a portage here?

The camper began to slowly untie her shoes, pulling delicately at the laces, calm and snail like in her movements. One shoe off, struggling to remove the first sock. Ok, I thought, this isn't going to work.

I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag on the shore and yelled "I got it!" while racing towards the water. I forced myself into the waves, pushing out toward the canoe as fast as I could.

I could see the canoe ahead of me, almost there I notice sometime odd, the canoe had stopped moving. The canoe was resting calmly on a bed of reeds on the other side of the very small river. My rescue mission had been in vain, and now my shit was all fucking wet.

I heard roars of laughter coming from the beach behind me as I grabbed the tip of the banked canoe and swam it to shore. As I gradually submerged from the water, like a drown beaver, I walked over to my co-leader and mumbled under my breath about the failed attempt.

I informed the group that I would change before we began the portage and headed up the small hill to the trailhead. As I stepped over the ridge I could see little to no places to change as the water was visible from where I stood on all angles. I chose an area near the river and convinced myself I would be fast.

I quickly stripped down out of my clothing so I could dry off (with my very small hand towel). It was then I started to hear voices, not in my head, coming down the river.

Fuck, I thought, there's people coming. I could barely get my dry underwear up my half wet thighs when around the corner came a group of males canoing past me. They saw me. They all pretended to then look away, but they saw me. I could hear snickering as I fireman-ed on the rest of my clothes, dreading seeing them on the portage.

Good news was, I didn't have to see them. They didn't portage.

Bad news was, the reason they didn't portage was because it's only there for dry seasons and the river continues safely out into the lake.

It was all for nothing. It could have all been avoided.

But where ever is the fun in that? I made a flag out of my bra and underwear to dry them off as we pushed off on the other side of the portage, and continued on our way.

Canoe Trippin' with LB: Bathroom Etiquette

 Continuation of Canoe Trippin' with LB: Bear Safety

 

A bear would NOT use a privy to shit in the woods, but the rest of us have too

BATHROOM ETIQUETTE

I can tell you for sure that a bear shits in the woods, and considering how many camping trips I have taken, I have done the same. Being privy to information is always a good deal, having to use a privy is not. This whimsical creation can be found on most campsites across Canada, and varies in design. Sometimes its a barrel with a toilet lid, sometimes a wooden box, sometimes there is no lid and you can be sure that toilet paper is never supplied. 

I am very comfortable (aside from the fact there is no comfort in sitting on one of these beauts) using a privy and really any outdoor toilet available. I even spent a summer as an Ontario Junior Ranger in 1999 and part of that job included covering up old privies and digging new ones. 

Basically that means I was paid lower than minimum wage to dig shitters. I didn't mind much, I always enjoyed placing the new ones in really open spaces for low privacy. It made having to do this task much more enjoyable. 

Using a privy is thus, not the most enjoyable event while camping, what's worse is having to go when there is no privy to be found. I know for men, when it comes to having a tinkle they can seem to go anywhere at anytime. The dynamics of going are easier and there is no need for me to explain why, we all know why.

I have perfected urinating outside (sexy I know) over the years from a variety of life circumstances. Sometimes it's been out in the middle of nowhere, sometimes it's been behind a few space trees in a city area (I drank too much in my twenties don't judge me). At times I was sober, at times I was indeed drunk. 

I have been caught by watchful eyes, I have been bitten by bugs and I have "missed" all while going out there in the world, sans toilet. I have come up with some neat tricks along the way, and since I am talking camping here I will stick with that genre. I have also not gone in a public in a decade, so I'd like to keep that topic where it belongs - in the past.

Important to locate when you number one outside as a lady - privacy. Since the while shebang needs to get pulled down you best hide your naked ass behind some shrubbery. If your ass is a white almost blue hue like me, I suggest extra shrubbery. It reflects the sun something awful so be warned that waving that around where any light shines can give you away.

It is crucial that you find a tree within the shrubbery. Ideal conditions are in a thick wooded area with lots of forest floor coverage. You will need this tree for support, so make sure you don't mind holding on to it (pine trees can get a bit sappy so beware.) 

So step one - locate the flora. Step two - I will get back too. I must jump to step three first, if you don't mind (you have absolutely no control anyhow). Step three - really pull those trow down. All the way down. There is nothing that can get any splash or spray off your pantaloons when you are camping or hiking, and by George you don't want to spend the rest of the day in urine doused anything.

Step four - use the tree as leverage while you relieve yourself. Just hug that tree like your David Suzuki and make sure your feet are at the base of the tree and your bum is as far away from the it as is humanly possible. (The lack of a tree results in a squat, which causes my under worked thighs start to burn).

The fifth step is simple, just pull yourself back into the tree, take a hop away from the contaminated area and move on with your day (I am just assuming you know the common sense of the front to back you need to do before pulling up your pants).

Simple? Yes. Effective? Absolutely. It may not be as efficient as a go girl but the system works, I have used it for years. They system has been a constant for me and is in my eyes, perfect. The only small tiny glitch is, if you miss a step, you can really land yourself in some trouble.

Step Two is brought to you by the Adirondacks in upper state New York. It's a breathtaking area of foothills and mountains, made for hiking. I was still a canoe trip leader even if this particular trip had no canoes, it was all altitude and on foot.

It was day three or four this time, I can't remember which one but it was dab in the middle of our adventures. We were moving base camps and heading up into the alpine zone and over a mountain to cross down to our next camp. I was hiking with my pack full of gear and was making sure I stayed hydrated (lovely to have fresh mountain water at hand).

I guess I got a bit too hydrated, and nature called (I was conveniently already in the woods - har har). Unfortunately at a higher altitude the ground had but moss and pine needle coverage and the trees had gotten smaller and more sparse.

I told my campers I would be right back, and they giggled when I explained I needed them to all face the other way. I walked about a hundred feet but was still in eyesight of the trail.

I felt secure that no one would turn around and I began my steps - if there is no coverage - just improvise like that. Step two I will tell you now, is check the tree. I mean really check it. Make sure that tree is solid, and I mean solid. Take a test run hanging on that thing before you move to the third step.

I missed step two, I fucking missed step two and didn't check to see if I had something to bear my weight. I wrapped my arms around that skinny half dead tree and was nearly completed step four aside from my shake and wipe (needs no explaining, sorry if it's too much info but that's what I am all about).

I did the shake and it all went to hell.

The tree cracked, it cracked in half. It hit the forest floor and the sound of the crack and crash echoed through the mountains. The hills were alive with the sound of failure.

As the tree fell I fell backwards with my hunter green hiking shorts around my ankles. My tan boots kicked into the air, and the entire group of campers turned around in reaction to the noise.

I have body image issues sometimes, and it is thus no suprise before even telling everyone I was ok, I yelled out "I'm fat!"

They all burst into laughter knowing I was ok, and I was now the literal butt of any joke for the end of the trip. 

So there you have it, when your doing a number one out in the wilderness, don't forget step number two.

Coming soon: Canoe Safety

Canoe Trippin with LB: Bear Safety

Continuation of Canoe Tripping with LB: Equipment

That right there - is an actual photo of a bear shitting in the woods

BEAR SAFETY

When I was a young girl, I was always given the same reply when I asked my mother a question with an obvious answer ' "Does a bear shit in the woods?" It was a staple, and in Jasper Alberta during the summer of 2007, I witnessed an actual bear, shitting in the woods. I called my mother immediately to let her know - yes, they do.

This was however, not the first bear I had seen in the flesh. To recall that I will have to return to my summers as a canoe trip leader. The incident took place in Algonquin Park, but not the same trip as my previous mishap (because I like to spread out the craziness for all to share). 

The week before I left for my trip news was buzzing around Ontario that there had been a bear attack in Algonquin Park. No one was harmed, but a lady and her daughter had been chased off a cliff (leaping into a lake) by a bear. 

I have and will defend that bears for the most part are not a threat, they are mainly vegetarian and have no interest in eating humans (just the processed food and garbage irresponsible campers leave behind). Bears are generally quiet and solitary, only getting to a dangerous point around their young. 

A week before my trip and I wasn't panicking, because there is no need to be afraid of bears. Pack a bear kit, make noise when in the forest and of course, don't feed the bears. Simple, easy, I told my mother not to worry when I called home, I would be fine, the campers would be safe. 

The week flew and after re-routing the trip to avoid a lake that had been closed due to a bear I was ready to rock. Before I knew it I was packed in a van with a fellow leader, seven hyper campers and one very quirky driver named Dane who always told me on a scale of 1-10 how much I "ranked" after a trip. 

When I registered at the main gate, I was told that the lake closure had been lifted and the "bear problem" solved. I didn't ask further questions, I knew it was either a relocation or they put the poor thing down and I didn't want to hear it. Either way, the original route was back in play.

Day four of the trip my group made it to the lake of the bear. It was a very windy day and we were all struggling to paddle against a strong headwind across the lake. I wanted to get as far ahead as possible before we stopped (our permit was to stay on that lake on that night). 

The weather was unforgiving of my plan, so after consideration (and a really tired upper body) I directed the canoes to a campsite to stop and set up for the evening. As we paddled closer to the site, I noticed a yellow sign posted. 

We tied up the canoes and I told the campers to hold off while I investigated. I read the sign easily: SITE CLOSED DUE TO BEAR PROBLEMS

Fucking idiots, I thought, they forgot to take the damn signs down. 

I gave the go to unpack and my junior camp counsellor agreed to walk with me to inspect the campsite. I always did this to start, locate the toilet (aka hole in the ground with a half barrel over it), look for lone wilderness men etc. 

We walked liesurley down a pine coated path and chatted as we checked things out. There was an interesting cave located a bit down the path and just as I was about to make a bear related comment, I saw it. 

I saw my first bear. Brown fur, black nose, cute little bear bum, it wandered off in the distance, just a tiny little guy, nothing scary. Nothing scary until I realized it wasn't that far off, but it was tiny, and it did have a cute little bum, because it was a bear cub. Holy fuck I thought, I have loured my campers to their deaths. 

I quietly whispered to my friend, "slowly start walking backwards, we need to leave."

She noticed the bear at this time, and we walked backwards slowly until the bear was out of sight, and made our way to the campers and more importantly the canoes. 

"OK guys!" I announced, "pack it all up, we are leaving."

The campers whined, moaned and asked why because we just got there. 

"Just move quickly, we need to leave now." I said. 

They argued again, told me it was too windy, they were tired, they like the site etc. 

"There's a bear on the site." I snapped trying my best to sound calm (shitting my pants on the inside)

That did it. My mind and heart were racing as we pushed off shore and made our way around the site, and then I saw it. 

A cliff face, a giant cliff face leading into the water located on the site I just tried to claim. A site that was clearly marked closed. I stopped at the exact site where the bear attack had happened the week before, and there it was, the cliff. 

The cliff with a giant red X painted on it because assholes like me apparently need more that a stupid sign to tell me to keep off a damn site. Assholes like me who assumed taking care of a bear problem didn't mean posting a damn sign on one site as though the bear would never travel elsewhere.

Of course, it didn't. It was still there, and this asshole almost pitched a tent and started cooking dinner meters away from a bear cave, with a cute cub and a very protective mama. 

It's a laughable matter now and was for the whole lot of us once we were safe and a bit of time had passed. I know you're thinking now, wondering, was I allowed to take more trips out after this incident?

Answer: Does a bear shit in the woods? 

Coming soon: Canoe Trippin' with LB: Bathroom Etiquette

Canoe Trippin' with LB: Equipment

 That's me, pretending to be part of the Canadian Shield  

(if you can find me)

Lift your hands up to your ears, cover them in full and prepare yourself to hear a very loud toot. By "toot" I don't mean the kind my nephew swears comes out of his penis, I mean the loud resonating tooting of my own horn. Toot Toot! Side note: my nephew who is just under three farted on me this week, and when I told him he tooted at his Aunt because his bum was facing me, he giggled and said "No Aunt L, I toot out my penis!" (Either I need to call Family and Children's Services on my sister or this kid is full talent and may just change the world). Anyhow - here's my loud toot (which incredibly enough is coming out of my fingers at this moment)

I can be a bucket of fun, did I tell you that? Well, I can, and when I was a summer camp canoe trip leader in my early twenties and the early 00's - I was KNOWN for my fun. Children I had never met would be in glee when they found out that I was to be their canoe trip leader; they celebrated and danced around to have ME because dang-it - I'm fun stuff. Those that had gone on trips with me would run back to their fellow campers upon return and regale tales of laughter and silliness. I was famous the two summers I devoted to that place. The canoe trip leader all the kids wanted to camp with...and there's the toot.

Here's the echo of that giant toot; I may be looking at reality in a different sense. By that, I mean I may at times (and maybe even this time) exaggerate or perhaps rephrase a tiny bit of truth here and there (and everywhere). It's true, I mean children around camp did mention me, but it may not have been because I was exactly the most "fun" leader in the camp. You could maybe say that it was because on my trips "funny" things always happened. By "funny" I mean hilariously disastrous. You know, LB's law of absolute ridiculousness, also known as reverse horseshoe up my ass (which in todays world would be #horseshoesthewrongway or some such).

The kids weren't wrong at all either, it was true, any trip I took out from the three-nighters to the week-longs, mania occurred. If it could south, it did. There was the usual fuck ups you would expect. The time or two I forgot the poles for the tent; the few times a canoe tipped or leaked; the times I got lost and made up stories of complete bullshit as to why we paddled or hiked how ever many hours or kilometers off track. Usually it was some "legend" I made up and then would show the campers the magical or special fill in the blank (rock, creek, tree, dead end etc) before announcing we were now going to turn around and head in a completely different direction (after checking the map again for no reason....)

The remaining events, perhaps less average but sadly true.

BARREL OF LAUGHS

It was somewhere in Algonquin Park, day one of a seven day trip. I was the luckiest leader on staff, as the week long trips in Algonquin were a big deal to lead and only happened twice a summer. I was looking forward to the trip and  excited to try out new equipment the camp had purchased: a barrel pack. It's an interesting piece of camping equipment if you have ever used one and basically is exactly what it's called: a barrel that is indeed a backpack.

 

This gem of a creation is meant to keep supplies dry and safe and can be useful to store food in at night to keep out wildlife. It's designed for anything but comfort, and the barrel is larger than most people's torsos making movement both awkward and kinda painful. The straps help distribute the weight like a regular pack, but anytime the wearer moves with any sort of jump it jabs into their back and slowly bruises their tail-bone. It sucks to get stuck wearing it, but it was better than what we brought the year prior: a heavy wooden box with a strap.

On day one of the trip, it was packed to the brim with seven days worth of food. This is not normal practice for the barrel, it is not a fair or even distribution of weight among the camping party. The smart camp leader separates the food per camper and puts all the food in the barrel at night, but no, on my trips you just skip that fuss and pack it all in that fucker.

The upside of being a trip leader is being outside all summer and getting paid (not much but enough) to have fun and camp. The downside, being responsible for the lives of other people and being the sucker that gets stuck carrying really heavy shit because you can't force campers to do it - that's abuse.

The first portage that day was tolerable, a mere kilometer. I ended up with the barrel heavy on my shoulders and attached to me at chest and waist. It was heavy and I told the group I would lead since I needed to get moving.

I could feel my spine curving and crushing with every step of the journey to the other side, and my muscles tightened and twitched as the landscape rolled from downhill to uphill. By the end of the kilometer I was red, sweaty and muttering to myself.

I hauled over one last hill and up ahead the trees parted and there was the lake, it was heaven. 

"You got this Anderson." I gasped, "this is all you."

I pushed with everything I had left and made it to the waters edge where I could finally get what now felt like twenty cinder blocks off my back. Seeing the campers slowly following behind as I turned, tired but proud look on my face I let out a huge sigh, clicked the chest strap off and tossed that barrel right off my shoulders.

It would have been nothing short of the best release of my life, had I only remembered to remove the waist strap. Not being directly next to a natural ditch would have been ideal as well.

With the toss of the barrel and an audience of young teens, I flung back violently, smacked against the ground and rolled with that thing all the way to the bottom of the ditch. It rolled over me. I somehow managed enough momentum to run over myself.

I shutter to think trusting parents allowed me to take their precious children into the deep wilderness, there has to be a law against that shit somewhere. I'd like to say that was the last time I used that barrel, it wasn't.

I had six more blissful days with that thing. Six days and the rest of the summer.



Coming next: Canoe Trippin' with LB: Bear Safety   

The Final Straw

 

Sometimes all it takes is one tiny little irritating thing to launch you over the edge and project you into a flaming rage. We’ve all been there, at least I sure as shit hope we have. Yes people, many of us have the cognitive ability to rationalize emotion and calm ourselves down in times of adrenaline surge, but sometimes it’s just easier to let it go, and not in the Frozen sense.

My good and long time friend Balls (clearly her nickname) recently whirl-winded herself into my house in a frenzy I can relate too. She was having one of those days where nothing was going right. It was a series of events that had piled on her from the time of wake up and spiralled into one hell of a bad day. It included several things, snow shovelling, icy steps, a recent guy she met on a popular dating site had turned out to be a creep, her car gave her problems, messes were left around the house she had just cleaned, she smacked her head on a cupboard etc.

The final straw she huffed after recounting her impossible day, was that when she went to get ready to leave her house and come see me, she attempted a pony tail in her hair.

“You know when you get that one fucking loop of hair?!” she yelled, “That was it. That did it, fucking perfect pony tail except for the one tiny fucking little loop of hair sticking up right HERE.” (as she mentioned to where on her head this monstrous hair loop had lived)

She then recanted what around the house she slammed, kicked or whipped across a room. We ended up laughing the matter off and the remainder of the day mellowed her mood, but it got me to thinking. Thinking about those days I have where it all just seems to stack up. Recalling times I had slammed this or that and cried over a compilation of tiny little issues that always seemed to culminate with one last tiny thing.

The last snowflake that breaks the branch, the straw that breaks the camels back, the final hair loop that causes a person up a bell tower with a sniper rifle picking off civilians while muttering. What is really behind it all though? Is it the day that causes people to freak out? Is it a persons mood? And why, if we are so evolved and mature do we still throw tantrums from time to time when shit just isn’t right?

In order to really look into this, I decided to relive a day that almost ruined me.  Last January I attempted a trip to Collingwood Ontario to celebrate my friend Bilbo’s birthday (mutual friend with Balls, my friend Balls, not like man balls...Bilbo is female). It was to take place at a lovely luxury cabin in a winter wonderland with spa time, snow shoeing and wine. I couldn’t wait to get out of Dodge, and away from the daily stresses.

It turned into one of the longest and most stressful days of travel I have ever had.

I think I will take a note from Dane Cook, and Tarantino this story, starting of course at the end before jumping my way back to the beginning. So let’s do this...

I am a calm rationale person with respect for the employees of any establishment. However, Monday January 27th, 2014 at 11:52pm I found myself red faced and spitting while screaming across a hotel lobby reception desk at a Front Desk employee with a crowd of shocked hotel guests watching in horror. All this before dramatically grabbing my room key off the counter and dragging my luggage across the Best Western lobby floor, tears rolling down my face while screaming "THIS PLACE IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

I am not sure who I was by the end of that day, but let me rewind. There were definitely other “snowflakes” that fell before breaking my branch. 

I need to add that I studied Geography in University and never lost an interest in weather, but over the years due to it’s unpredictable nature, had lost interest in the weather channel at this time. I laughed recently when my friend told me he had more faith in the ground hogs' weather predictions than he did the weather network. I have decided recently to start pay closer attention to both.

It all started, with a very early alarm. It was a cold Monday in the Niagara region and the sound of my alarm shattered my deep sleep. I dragged myself out of bed, and stood in my hallway feeling dizzy and tired.

I had just come off a long stretch of night shifts at work, and had only 24 hrs to try and switch my sleep pattern to normal. It had failed and I could feel the weight of overtired.

I was scheduled for a training session out of town at my work's head office, and was set to keep heading north afterwards for my week of snow related activities (aka drinking in a lodge). I was excited; there is nothing quite like snow covered pines and fresh air.

I had packed the car up the night before and was prepared for a long day. All I had to do, was take my cat to my parents house, and hit the highway. My cat always seems to know when I am about to abandoned her for awhile, she sees the luggage and she knows.

In the morning, sensing this inevitable departure, she hid. It took me twenty five minutes of searching and eventual chasing to capture my kitty, and when I finally slid her into the pet carrier I felt relief. That was, until I realized I had not closed the other side, and she simply walked right out, and hid for another ten minutes.

When I delivered the furry bundle of joy to my parents (I can see my father rolling his eyes right now) my phone rang. It was a co worker set to go to training, asking if I was going with the snow squall warnings in effect for the area.

I laughed, and said I would be going and it was fine, I had just been out on the roads. My mom then flipped on the weather channel, and showed concern for me driving up north later as the weather channel was saying to avoid travel.

I said I would check in with her later and not to worry, if I was too tired or the weather was bad I would wait a day to leave. I hopped in my car, hit the tunes and hit the road. I made my obvious stop at Tim's on the way to the HWY, as any respectable Canadian would do.

They didn't have the bagel or cream cheese I requested, and I somehow ended up ordering the next thing offered, a cheese bagel with butter. I was good with that, I love both cheese and butter (you don't keep a figure like mine without those things) but when I opened it as I drove away the butter which coated the entire bagel dripped all over my coat and the side of my arm.


I rarely bring things back, but it was not edible. If it has too much butter for me, it has way to much fucking butter. The lady was nice, but this put me back and I started to panic about being late before I hit the highway.

The weather was not entirely ideal but it was just snow. I continued to tell myself that if I could handle living in Northern Alberta, Southern Ontario winter was no big deal. As I started to unwind to the music and make my way up to training, I smiled. I looked out to the right to glance at the lake, and noticed a heart shaped cloud off in the distance. Maybe, I thought, I am going to meet someone soon (when you are single chronically like myself, these thoughts come in from time to time).

The snow continued to fall and suddenly my windshield wipers stopped working properly. Ice had formed and the wiper on the drivers side was creating a thin sheet of icy water and slush making it almost impossible to see out the front window. I began to panic and took the next exit off the highway to fix the problem. As I stepped on to the road my shoes began to draw in all the wet slush and ended up with two matching soakers.

I was able to fix my wipers, and back on the highway I merged, now in full anxiety about being late. I made it to my training and when I reached the parking lot, no spaces. I had to park a street over and walk in the slush again before waiting for a long elevator.  I was ten minutes late, I was embarrassed entering a class of people already settled in as I huffed and puffed from my journey, now overtired and a bit cranky. I took the first available spot, and apologized to the room.

I ended up sitting next to a male student in the agency who I had never met before. This did not stop him from being completely creepy and telling me about the girls he picks up at the club, and asking me what clubs I went too. My answer, I don’t, I’m in my thirties. He continued to make sexist comments all day and be completely inappropriate but I was too tired to care and too focused on the clock, anxious to get on the road heading North.

My instructor for the day, is notorious in my agency for being informative but extremely long winded with a series of um’s and ah’s to take up extra time. He indeed went thirty minutes past the scheduled time of completion for the training, which meant I left Hamilton right at rush hour time instead of thirty minutes before.

Before I got on to the traffic infested highway, I made sure to call Bilbo who was already at the resort with other people attending. She said the roads were clear, that the last guest aside from me was almost there and also said the roads were fine so not to worry. I was extremely tired from my crossover from nights and my long day of training but I figured what’s two and a half more hours to travel to a winter getaway.

I hit the traffic and then I hit the weather. As I made my way out of the thick Brampton jam, the roads began to clear in terms of cars but the snow started to fall and blow all over. The sun was setting and causing serious snow blindness as I gripped the wheel and calmly told myself it was all going to be ok.

My speed was slow but as I made my way around a bend somewhere on the 400 my car slid sideways and I almost drove into oncoming traffic and then a wall. My heart was racing and I pulled over at a rest stop figuring now would be a good time to stop for dinner and rest a moment.

I crammed fast food into my gullet, calmed myself and hoped back into my car, texting my friend before I left to say I was fifty minutes away, according to my GPS. It was at this point I should have realized I was the only one turning right out of the rest stop to head North and that as I made my way down the dark highway no one was on the road.

The highway was ice covered, snow covered and next to open fields that started to create moments of complete white out. At first it was temporary and fast and I figured I was as far as I was; best just keep going North.

There was barely a sole on the road aside from the occasional transport truck pulled over, and the snow started to rush out more intensely. The snow squalls the weather network predicted were happening right in front of me.  There were parts where I could see no more than two feet in front of my car and I began to panic.

I was tired, all alone, and driving in a dark and horrific snow storm. I don’t think I realized at that moment how dangerous my decision to keep going was, but I just kept telling myself it would pass. It didn’t. If at all possible, it got worse, but the thought of turning around and doing all that driving again made me even more tired. I left training at three thirty pm, the drive was estimated by GPS at just over two hours and by this time it was almost seven thirty and I was still somehow thirty minutes away.

I started to run out of gas, and luckily made it to a small town with a gas station open. I stood in the storm and filled up my car and outside the weather didn’t seem to bad. As i went in a paid for my gas and of course a diet pepsi, I overheard the cashier say she as just about to close. I assumed it was just a small town with early hours but now realize she meant because of the fucking snow storm happening outside.

Again I pulled out, texting my friend first who was starting to wonder where I was to say GPS is telling me I am twenty minutes away. I told her to get a drink ready and that I needed a good twelve hours of sleep effective as soon as I down my wine and say goodnight.

GPS told me to turn right as I came to the final intersection in an empty town, and as I turned I noted that both heading left and straight were blocked off with barricades reading CLOSED DUE TO EXTREME WEATHER.

Finally, I thought, some actual dumb luck for the day I would be screwed if my road was closed as it was the only road in to my destination from where I was geographically. As I headed down the new highway turn off, the snow piled higher and ahead I started to see yellow flashing lights. It was a sign, the same sigh for the other roads. Everything was fucking closed, and I was stuck.

I pulled into an empty lot and started to cry.

“It’s ok,” I said to myself, “it’s going to be ok, you will find a way there.”
I turned my car around to check the other roads again, but alas I was correct, they were closed and GPS indicated that to get to my destination, there was only one way. I headed back to the closed sign and parked in front of it, wondering if I could just squeeze around it and keep going.

It was at this time, I called Bilbo and when she answered the tears came again. She told me to calm down and that her friend just drove around the sign and was fine, was there drink in hand. I found out she had been there for an hour, and said there was no way the roads weren't as bad as I was saying.

My friend who I love just didn’t seem to understand the emergency I was having and I felt more alone. I said I didn’t know what to do, I was going to call my parents and get them to look up another route if possible. I called my mom, whose voice made me cry more. She tried to calm me and just as I explained my dilemma, an OPP cruiser pulled up next to me and I rolled my window down. As the snow rushed in I greeted the officer staring at me with concern and judgment.

The look on the officers face offended me, he was looking at me like I was some crazy bitch, but in this moment in time I guess the shoe fit.  I was in a small Honda in the middle of a record breaking snow storm where even transport trucks wont drive trying to made my way down a clearly closed road. I was in the middle of no where late at night and he probably was wondering how stupid I could be to be where I was, and he was right.

“What are you doing?” he yelled across the storm from his car to me.

“I am on my way to Collingwood,” I replied.

“Well,” he said curtly “no your not, not anymore.”

I tried to breathe deep, “is there another way?” I said, “I can see this road is closed.”

“No.” he growled. “Best you head back where you came from, everything out here is getting shut down. Don’t even think about using this road, we don’t need any more casualties on it.”

With that he wished me luck and drove off parking far enough he could watch me, but not enough he could help me. I was severely tired, stressed, alone, scared, and now, completely stranded.

I called my mom again in a panic, and she somehow calmed enough to convince me to head south, find a hotel or motel and they would book me a room, as of course I was travelling with no credit card.

I told my friend who sounded disappointed in me I wasn’t able to make it, and then checked my GPS for the closest lodging. It was back about 40 km and down a side road, I felt relieved and slowly started to make my way back down the highway to the turn off.

The county road was as barren as the main highway but I thought nothing of it. I passed a few farm houses and thought about begging for a room but was so close to a motel I knew I could make it the short distance. It took me another forty minutes but when I saw the sign for the Village with the motel I sighed relief. That was until I couldn’t get into their parking lot without a struggle because it wasn’t plowed. Then it sunk in that it wasn’t plowed because there was no one there. Furthermore, the reason was because it was seasonal and it was not the season for this motel. Fucking GPS doesn’t have that information and now I was forty minutes from the main road I needed to head back to; to backtrack more to the nearest city.

I called my mother again, and made my way all the way back to Barrie. I found a Hotel, pulled into a plowed parking space and called my mom to tell her I was safe, and I would call from inside for the card information, I told her I was so happy there was a Boston Pizza across the parking lot and I planned to grab a pint and watch hockey, It was all going to be ok.

As I walked in to the front lobby, I immediately overheard the clerk tell the people in front of me the hotel was full along with all other lodgings in Barrie due to the storm. Fuck me. I said nothing, walked back out into the cold and to my car called my mom and begged for help again.

I ended up driving back more, to Brampton to the Best Western Hotel off the highway because it was the closest place with room. They agreed to take a card over the phone and I was all set. At ten fifty five pm, after being awake and overtired and driving in deadly weather on a route, twice, I finally pulled in to the Best Western and sighed relief again, I was here and I could finally sleep.

I entered the Lobby and approached the desk, and there she was, Cassandra, the front desk clerk. I plopped my stuff down and looked at her, letting out a heavy sigh. I did the usual how are you greeting as I pulled out my wallet.

“You have no idea how happy I am too be here.” I said. “I am pretty sure I almost died out there a few times tonight.” I then went on to explain my mother had phoned and booked me a room.

Her attitude changed from nothing to bitchy right away, and I am not sure why as my mother is an absolute riot, especially on the phone. She then gave me attitude and told me the hotel was doing me a huge favour and that if it was up to her I wouldn’t be staying there without a credit card. I told her I had debit but the hotel didn’t take it, and that I was thankful they agreed to take a card over the phone.

I didn’t want to yell at her, I didn’t want to fight, I just wanted this day to be completely over. She told me they needed information faxed (which my mom was doing at that exact moment from a friends) and that I should sit and wait.

I did just that. I waited for forty minutes while she serviced all other customers. I waited even though I could see the fax that had come through sitting atop the fax machine. I began to huff, I began to puff, I began to feel the rage. I called my mom again, and expressed my anger, telling her I just wanted to go to sleep and didn’t want to end up killing someone at the hotel. My mom said the fax ws sent and told me to breathe.

Finally, after being ignored, I stormed up to the counter, and flagged down the front desk clerk, asserting myself in front of people checking in. She told me he was busy and to sit down, the fax wasn’t there yet.

I pointed to it, and told her it was. She sighed, and said she would help me in a minute, flagging over people that had just walked in to the hotel. She helped them with a friendly attitude, and then she grabbed her cell phone to send a fast text under the desk, which I could see.

Finally, she walked over and began to check me into a room. “You know,” she said with a thick douche like accent “we normally don’t do this for people, so your lucky.”

That was it, that was the one. That was my hair loop. After all I had been through that day, being overtired, getting buttered, dealing with snow and fear and a lack of help from law enforcement, from my windshield wipers to the dick next to me in training, to rush hour traffic and almost crashing, from the cat hiding to the early morning alarm, that comment, pushed me off my cliff.

“Fuck you.” I said as I felt the kettle inside me whistling with steam. “I am a paying customer at this hotel and you should be thanking me for the business. Your attitude is shit, you have been a bitch since the minute I walked in, You ignored me and...”

Well the rest I am not so sure, but as I said, it was me, red faced and spitting while screaming across a hotel lobby reception desk at a Front Desk employee with a crowd of shocked hotel guests watching in horror. All this before dramatically grabbing my room key off the counter and dragging my luggage across the Best Western lobby floor, tears rolling down my face while screaming "THIS PLACE IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"

That’s it folks, that’s what it looks like to have one of those days. The thing is, if I dissect it now I can see why I no longer had the ability to keep it in, as I was very angry. It had to do with the culmination of shitty events, but it wasn’t the day that made me scream. It was the emotions underneath it all. What emotions are under anger?

Guilt. I felt guilty I wasn’t able to make it to my friends birthday. I felt like I let her down and that because the weather was to stay this way for a day or two, I knew deep down I wasn’t going to make it and that tomorrow I would be back in Niagara.

Shame. Shame came with this, as I feel sometimes like I don’t give as much into my friendship with Bilbo as she does, and so letting her down just pulled this feeling out.

Fear. I was scared for my life for about seven hours alone in a vehicle and it had snowballed (literally).

Sad. Sad in terms of disappointed, because all I wanted, was a damn vacation after working so hard. It didn’t help that the vacation I tried to take prior was canceled last minute. I am lucky to be able to take trips, but I was annoyed they just weren’t happening.

All these emotions bubbled up all day, added to tired and yes, my cognitive ability to calmly tell the front desk clerk she was not doing a good job was disrupted and out of order.  I was disappointed in the hotel and could have expressed this a bit better. It could have been less publicly embarrassing for me at least, because no one in the lobby knew the day I had, they just watched me loose it.

So in terms of those days, where we just wanna scream, perhaps we need to take a step back and look at the pieces of why we are there emotionally. Maybe its not just the loop in your hair driving you crazy, maybe you just lost your job and it’s “one more thing” that usually you would ignore and simply redo the pony tail. Maybe dropping your coffee on your work station would be laughable if you didn’t fear that your marriage was ending, etc.

Next time you see someone who’s just broken their branch, remember, maybe they got a lot going on and you don’t need to judge them. We’ve all been there.

On a final note, I think I need to tell you what the training was on the day I lost it at Best Western. It was Collaborative Problem Solving. The training was on how to solve emotional issues or conflict in a respectable mature way. Positive communication.

I think it’s safe to say, I failed. Not the training, just the real life simulation.




And no Cassandra, I am not sorry for yelling at you either, you were kind of a bitch, but maybe you were having a bad day too...and if that’s the case, well then I am half sorry. Kinda.

A Cold Birthday

It started off like any other day in 2009, slow. I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. My cat swished in and out of my legs announcing to me that feeding time had long since passed as I stumbled down the hall. I splashed water on my face and wondered if it was worth taking a shower. I sighed deeply as I patted dry my worn and tired face. I made my way into the kitchen still half asleep and filled my cats bowl with a shower of kibbles. Indeed that would be the only shower in my place that day.

I took in a deep breath and stood at my balcony window overlooking the street and big sky. I was living in Northern Alberta at the time and the ground was covered in a blanket of snow. A very thick blanket, perhaps you may even call it a down filled comforter.

It was late October, it was minus who the hell cares it was cold, and it was still snowing. I tossed my giant winter coat on over my pjs, stepped into my boots and slid the balcony door open stepping outside.

The cold air smacked my face and iced my lungs as I lit my smoke and drew in the frosted air. It was at that moment I realized something, it was my birthday. I was turning 27, meaning I was officially in my late twenties (I am not sure why that was important, but it was). I missed my friends back home, I missed my family, and I missed feeling like my birthday was of any importance.

I was in a very unhealthy relationship with the guy in the apartment next to mine, who loved booze more than anything else and I was a miserable person. My life was in a dank crawl space during this time, and it felt worse thinking that if I was home in Ontario the day would have been better.

I had a pity party, and as the snow started to cover any space left in the sky my cousin called me to wish me well. As she chimed in a "Happy Birthday!" and I started to sob.

I could hear her gasp on the other end, and she asked me what was wrong. I sobbed and explained that I felt alone, that it was snowing on my birthday for the first time ever and I hated it, and that all I wanted was to be home celebrating with everyone.

She comforted me, and once I had stopped crying wished me a better day. As I put the phone down I sat on the edge of my futon and stared at the wall (something I did a lot back then). My eyes burned and felt puffy as the thoughts in my head went silent.

The phone rang again, this time it was my at the time boyfriend. He wished me well and said he had big plans for the evening (which was nothing, because he got drunk and "ruined my birthday", but that's not the story I'm telling.)

I hung up again, and lay down. The phone rang again, and I didn't really feel like answering it, I just didn't want to talk. After a few rings I reached over, and said a faint "hello".

It was my best in the west friend, and she told me she would be at my place in twenty minutes so I best put pants on (I am famously known in my circle of friends to not have pants on while at home - thus needing warning of any stoppers by).

I told her I didn't feel much like seeing anyone at that moment, but before I could argue more she told me to "shove it" and she would see me in twenty. Feeling irritated, I pulled myself off the couch, did a fast sink wash and dressed.

Happy fucking birthday to me, was all I could think. I had good reason to be down and depressed, and I was doing a really good job of being sad.

Tbe apartment buzzer went twenty minutes later and I let my friend into the building. I could hear her climbing up the stairs in the hallway (not uncommon when your apartment is next to the damn stairs) and with a knock she opened my door.

I was sitting on the couch when she came in, and she told me to get up. She hugged me and wished me a happy birthday, then tossed my shoes and coat at me while standing at the door.

I sighed, put on my shoes and winter coat, and out the door we went. She tossed the car keys at me, and said "you're driving."

What the fuck, I thought. "Fine" I said irritated. "Nothing I love more than driving in a blizzard."

She laughed at me and told me to stop being cranky pants, and I got into her car. As I adjusted the seat I noticed a note stuck to the steering wheel.

"Here's the deal Anderson, you're going to drop me off downtown and then read the note, its a Birthday Scavenger Hunt!!" she smiled. "The last clue will lead you to me."

I smiled and drove towards downtown. She told me to pull over and let her out, and as she exited the car tossed a pirate eye patch at me and told me to wear it while I'm searching. I did wear it for a bit, but it didn't really seem all that safe to drive with an eye patch on. Or walk for that matter, I'm extremely accident prone.

I watched her as she walked away and opened the note. The first note said "The next clue is at the place we listen to music and you point out this CD every time"

It didn't take me long to know what she meant, and to simultaneously realize how repetitive I can be with certain things.  I did indeed point out an Esthero CD at the (only) music store in town, located at the fabulous mall. Off I went and in no time located parking, and headed inside.

I got to music store and hit the E section, then flipped through and pulled out my favourite album. There was the second note. This hunt continued on, from the tattoo parlor with a note under the mat, to the toy store with a clue hidden in a train tunnel, to the book store and beyond. Every single favourite place we shared in town, I went to and found more notes leading me forward.

The final note said "meet me for lunch at our place" and off to the Shawrma Hut I went. For a small town in the middle of nowhere (at least to someone from Southern Ontario it feels that way) I was reminded of how many cool places there were, and although the variety of urban delights wasn't as great, what the town did have felt like home.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Hut, and walked towards the door no longer focusing on the bitter cold but dreaming of rice and garlic sauce. As I walked through the door, there was my best friend, sitting across the room at a table with a giant High School Musical gift bag and a bunch of helium balloons.

This time I cried tears of joy. It was a perfect lunch, and the day was saved. My friend had to run off to work in the evening, and yes the rest of that day was a nightmare I'd rather not relive, but that day....that was one hell of a day.

My birthday scavenger hunt is still one of the warmest memories in my mind. I think hollow times often have bright bursts here and there, and to not appreciate them is to live in darkness. The love and care I received from one friend in one moment, was enough to push me forward and keep me going.

I was reminded of this story recently, as my dear friend has just given birth to her first beautiful baby. I tell you folks, this is one lucky kid. He has a mom who understands how to make life magical with her crazy imagination and huge heart. He has a mom who provides unconditional love and care. He has a mom who will make his life an adventure full of surprises, full of knowledge and perspective, full of fun.

I hate that I am so far away. I hate that I wasn't outside her hospital room pacing back and forth waiting for news. But I love her. I love our friendship, and I love that no matter the distance we will always have each other.

I can't wait to meet her son, and kiss his little cheek. I can't wait to take him out, fill him with chocolate and return him past bedtime either, cause that's what friends are for, right?

Dearest friend so far away....


I love you man.

 True friendship lasts a lifetime - and includes a road trip that also includes a giant sausage along the way. 

Lloyd and Harry 

Summer 2009 (aka The Good Time in 09)