Trip - Day 6 - Friday, April 23, 2010

Sleep should have come easier after an evening of drinking and fun, but I was awake at 8:30 the following morning, the snow covered Bow Valley impossibly bright in the sun's first light.

With my host still sound asleep, I peeled myself from the couch and made my way downtown for some coffee or breakfast, settling for neither. Having not been able to recharge my body with suitable rest, I felt weak and mildly hungover. Much like the second day I was in Canmore, I looked forward to perhaps a day of relaxing and poking around in the shops, and exactly like that day, I was hooked into more than I had expected.

I got a call around 10:00 from Jaclyn who apologized for her hasty retreat to bed and promptly offered to buy me breakfast. I declined the gesture, but we gathered Noel from his place and went for some nourishment. As per usual, I order eggs benedict, washed down by more coffee and water than one bladder should have to suffer. Over the course of breakfast, a plan for my last day and night in Canmore was being fabricated, and I was feeling rather faint at the thought of pulling a 16 hour day, whereas I had a drive to Edmonton the next day.

Noel was recommending one more drive through Spray Lakes and Kananaskis Country, and it sounded like a laid back approach to seeing everything one last time. Jaclyn opted to pass, or at least attempted too, citing a much needed and important yoga class. Immediately, Noel and I pounced on her, explaining that the choice or option was simply not there to be taken, and that she would be joining us for the afternoon, regardless of whether she cared to or not.

She sighed, sipped her water, and accepted her fate with the announcement that she would need to add a stop to our route into the mountains: the liquor store, of course.

We stocked up and made ourselves as comfortable as three people in a two-seater truck can manage to be, then headed past Ha Ling and on to the loose surface highway. Not wanting to simply repeat any previous days, we kept the directive very much open and picked our way around. We stopped at Spray Lakes for a beer and took in the air, played a rousing game of "hit the water with a rock" (Canada's first national sport, no doubt), and posed for some photos. Having already been here I begged of Noel to show me a new spot on my last day, and he came through with flying colors.

As we left the lakes behind, we headed toward Peter Lougheed Park where we had been previously, and Noel pointed me down a dirt road. We entered into a deserted parking lot beneath Mount Black Prince, a cluster of trees in the center making a large turn-around of the rest area. I parked the truck and took a look around at numerous peaks, lush woods, and a bright sun playing on the crags on the ranges around me.

With the direct sunlight on several mountain faces, Noel said it was prime conditions for avalanches, so we set up shop for about 2 hours. We had a few beer, snacked on the few morsels we thought to bring, kicked a soccer ball around, and then just relaxed in the box of the truck, waiting for snowslides that never came.

For years, I had dreamed of a moment in the mountains that would be forever with me, and here it was. I had never felt happier, more alive, more in touch with myself, and certainly had never pictured this setting and feeling being shared with Noel and Jaclyn.

As I sipped on scotch and we all fell relatively silent, I began to think about my little life. In that moment I knew something had given inside me, and the grim realization of my current state was all too apparent: I had messed up.

I had moved to Hay River with the ambition of starting anew in a strange and challenging place. The overall goal was to use the work experience there to go elsewhere after a year or so, clear up my debt, see the North extensively, and learn more about Canada's forgotten peoples. What was actually occurring up to the point of my vacation was quite the opposite. I was being taken advantage of at work along with being pitted between a manager and staff that were all close friends, my debt barely moved due to the high cost of living, I could not travel due to 60-70 hour work weeks, and I learned more about the ignorance of some white people in the North than the ways and stories of the indigenous people who have called it home for years.

Somehow, this coming to light did not sadden me. I was more relieved, happily sitting with two distant friends in a distant place with those worries just as distant. I snapped out of my daydream and silently made a decision that Hay River would not see me beyond the agreement in my 12 month contract. I knew I was worth more than the experience I was being handed, and the feeling I had that afternoon told me I was right. Sooner or later, I would be gone for good.

We drove back to Canmore and I dropped both Noel and Jaclyn off at their respective requests. Jaclyn vowed to meet me later and Noel was off to work, so I would not see him until my departure the next morning. With an empty cab, I cranked some RUSH and took a spin around town, trying to spy a place for supper.

Santa Lucia Tratorria was located on 8th Street, and the name caught my eye right away, a perfect example of a place I would never choose unless on a date or with a group. I parked a couple of blocks away on purpose to give myself the chance to wander the streets for a half hour before dining, window shopping for a girlfriend I did not have. She was rather happy with my selections.

The restaurant was modest but extremely inviting, and was by far the best dining experience I have ever had flying solo (the alternative being a date in Boston at Excelsior; amazing experience). The decor merely hinted at the surrounding landscape of mountains and forest, feeling somewhat between a classic Italian restaurant and a more modern fine dining room. My gratitude continues with the service from the best waitress I have ever encountered, a young woman who was either fantastically interested in everything she was talking about or an undiscovered star actress. She offered wine pairings for both courses that were wonderful even for someone who does not drink wine, and was prompt and courteous throughout.

Starting with Prince Edward Island scallops in a very bold, zesty sauce, I knew from the first taste that this meal would never be topped. I had never had food that nearly caused me to create a scene in public, that of an orgasmic, grasping shriek and sigh of relief. The panzerotti that followed was nearly as long as my forearm and bowed to a point of nearly half that length. Sarah, as we will call her, brought this behemoth along with a glass of wine and promised to return with scotch and water for my afterburner. Well-timed in a fairly full house, she was astonished to find upon returning that I had finished the entire plate and side salad, and gave me the scotch free of charge. The manager also stopped by the table to offer his congratulations, stating that most people share this meal and that my scotch was well deserved.

I left the restaurant in that familiar "food drunk" state we all must know by now. If you do not know this feeling, stuff yourself with delicious food and carry a pillow, it is wondrous. In order to save myself from the effects of this bodily hijacking, I returned to Noel's for a shower and shave, then met Jaclyn downtown.

We walked to a glorious microbrewery and pub called the Grizzly Paw, a place so welcoming of its environment that it could pass as a natural part of the land. Beautifully used wood and stone created a very warm, lodge feel and they boasted over 20 different draughts on tap. A list nearby noted only those that were not available, the taps bearing the names, and the glasses were proportioned in favor of the patron. Several selections later we made for the Drake for live music and further imbibing of various sorts of alcohol, having a fairly good time until close.

What was supposed to be a day on the grass with some beer, the mountains looming in the sun, a freshly strung guitar, and cigarettes, became a monster of a day that I will never forget and am truly grateful for. I slept on Jaclyn's couch again that night, submitting easily to slumber as the drinking ceased. The next morning I would bid Jaclyn, Noel, and Canmore in general, farewell for the time being.

There was no question in my mind I would be back someday, but that was not my worry. I had picked a 9 hour circuit to Edmonton, sweeping under Calgary, touching small towns and using only back roads. While looking forward to seeing towns like Black Diamond (a favorite KISS song), I was also regarding the weather forecast that threatened every possible route to Edmonton, direct or wandering.

I would make that choice in the morning, for better or worse, and live with it as it happened. At the moment, there was sleep to be had in preparation for what would be a drive both harrowing and beautiful.