Trip – Prelude

Around the end of January, I had started thinking seriously about a vacation in late April to kind of break up my time in the North. I had family coming to visit tentatively in July and September, so this sort of felt like a natural way to break my year in Hay River into uneven thirds.

Originally, it was simple: get in the truck and drive south for one week, then turn around and come back. Now, this was based on a, “hmmm… Grand Canyon?” kind of whim, but figuring the price of gas, I would have had to sleep in the truck and eat the seats. More ideas followed, only to be trumped by obvious, unbeatable financial hurdles: a drive to Vancouver with stops along the way (gas prices, hotels); Manitoba to see family (gas prices and hotels again), Los Angeles to surprise my favorite cousin (gas, hotels, and prostitutes); and last but not least, flying home (booze upon landing).

Other options like a trip to Mexico or Amsterdam were marred only by the fact that my passport would not be back to me in time, so I picked something a little more local. I traced a great drive from Hay River to Canmore, then through a piece of Southern Alberta to bypass Calgary and hit up Edmonton. I chose as many back roads as I could in my tireless efforts to avoid highways, and was ready by February for a two week jaunt through the lovely province of Alberta.

March droned on and on, the calendar turning its own pages back some days. The excitement that welled in me even two months before seemed unbearable. I had planned a week in Canmore with an old friend from home and a week in Edmonton with a former band mate, this notion of friends adding an almost painful tinge to my anxiety. The prospect of familiarity in the company of others was enough to make me leave any given day considering the lack of companionship I had endured so far in Hay River.

My travel would be done solo save for the first and last four hours on either end of the journey. Carter would join me until Manning, Alberta on the first day of travel, where I would then leave him in the care of a reputable boarding spot which also served him well in the veterinary department. He needed shots, he needed some extended outdoor time as well, and this place suited both of our demands accordingly.

It seemed we both looked forward to this trip, though I am sure I was merely trying to appropriate some of my excitement on to Carter as a means of justifying just how loopy I had become in the time leading up to my day of departure.

The night before leaving was spent packing and sorting, cleaning the house so I could avoid doing so upon returning, and telling myself “no, don’t leave tonight, stick to your game plan”. I paced the apartment long enough, then headed to the pub to have a few drinks to eat up time. Becoming involved in conversations was torture to the other participants as all I could talk about was vacation.

I retired home before too much was imbibed, knowing full well that my liver would soon endure a beating of the likes which it had never imagined. Lying in bed, I drifted off to sleep trying to rehearse conversation topics so Carter would not feel ignored on our 500 kilometers together, and so he would have my voice well keyed in his ears before we parted ways for two weeks. This is the longest we would ever be apart, and on top of my excitement this realization now circled three times, then curled up.

Tomorrow, we both went on vacation.