Trip of a Lifetime

TRIP OF A LIFETIME

Harry double-checked that he had remembered to pack everything.  He pulled out the list that he had been carrying around in his pocket for weeks — since this trip had first been planned. Everything was ready to go. It was eight a.m., and they were right on schedule.

He hopped into the van, started the engine, and dropped it into gear. Before he left the driveway, he turned to his wife, Eleanor, and said, “All set?” They were on the road for an epic trip cross the country — their Greatest Hits Tour — all places they had travelled to in Canada and the United States, and had loved.

The weather was clear and warm, perfect for a road trip. Harry rolled down the window, and let the summer air blow through the cab. Eleanor’s favourite music was playing through the speakers. Eleanor loved all kinds of music. She particularly loved playing her iPod — her classic iPod, so no internet required — on shuffle. She had every kind of music, and loved most of the songs. With over five thousand songs in the library — every one of them bought and paid for, thank you very much — you could hear classic rock, followed international blues, followed by classical, followed by Zydeco, followed by Klizmer. Harry enjoyed listening to music, but not like Eleanor. Together, Harry and Eleanor had attended an awful lot of music festivals, and Eleanor would inevitably buy a CD from the artist preforming. She said that the artists needed to get paid, and streaming services paid the artists so poorly, that she preferred to buy a physical CD, or if that wasn’t available, purchase an electronic version on the song — that way artists made some money. These indie artists now populated Eleanor’s audio library.

Right now they were travelling south-west toward the American border. They hoped to get to get to Chicago mid-afternoon, late enough that their hotel room would be available, and they wouldn’t have to wait for check-in.  

The travelling was easy. They zoomed through the American border — thank you Nexus Pass — and headed towards Chi-Town. They had reservations at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago. They arrived a little after four in the afternoon, checked in, and went up to their room on the top floor. When they got to the room, Harry tipped the porter, and turned to Eleanor.

“Pretty swanky digs, eh,” he said, taking in the room.

The first time they had been to Chicago it had been late summer, and it had been on the cheap. Their kids, Jay and Amanda had been 11 and 8. They had stayed at the Motel 8 by the airport, and it had been grim. In fact it was so grim they had insisted on changing rooms.

“What is that?” Eleanor had asked, leaning forward and pointing at a stain on the wall that seemed to have seeped into the carpet. Harry had bend to examine the stain.

“Is that—“ she had said.

“Yup,” said Harry, quietly, not wanting the kids to hear. “I’ll get us another room.” He had left the room, and gone to the front desk.

“Uh, there’s blood all over the wall in our room. We’d like another room, please.”

“I guess housekeeping didn’t get it all,” the front desk clerk had said. Harry had stood there, nonplussed, with his mouth hanging open.

“Yeah,” continued the clerk, “there was a bit of a situation in that room a couple of days ago. The police only released the room back to us today.” 

What have we gotten ourselves into? Harry had wondered at the time.

But, overall, the trip to Chicago had been a lot of fun. Each of the kids had been able to choose two things to do while in town. Amanda had chosen to go to a White Sox baseball game. They were playing the Blue Jays, so she said it was like being at home, but better, because they were on vacation. Her second choice was a trip to Navy Pier, in particular seeing the IMAX film Blue Planet. Jay had wanted to go to the Nature Museum and the Adler Planetarium. Both of their kids loved their science.

They had been there for four days. There had been no bickering, and everyone had a great time. They kids loved taking the “L” into the city. Harry remembered being more than a bit worried about the entire trip because Chicago was experiencing a gang turf war, and 1991 was the deadliest year to-date.

“Harry, we can’t worry ‘what ifs,’” Eleanor had said. “Most of the crime is gang related. We’re going to be fine, and we’re going to have an amazing time.”

And she had been right. As usual. They all had loved Chicago. And now they were back.

The next morning they had checked out, and hit the road. They had a long drive ahead of them. Next stop — Badlands National Park. Harry was looking forward to Badlands. They were travelling in their converted Sprinter van, and were been looking forward to boon-docking in the BLM — Bureau of Land Management — sites in the States, where there were no hookups. This would tell them if they had enough solar power, and if their fresh water supply was sufficient. Harry was a little nervous because this had been his van design and build, and he hoped it performed as well as he hoped. Eleanor had watched hours and hours of videos on YouTube, and had declared what they needed in their van — shower, toilet, kitchen, and bed. It had been up to Harry to make it happen in under twenty feet of space. It had taken almost nine months to build, and this, the maiden voyage, was going to be the litmus test.

They arrived at their camping spot outside of Badlands about eight that night. Harry was impressed at how much more convenient it was travelling in the van. No more public facilities. Their only stop was for gas.  

The next morning, as he was packing up the van, Harry had declared their van worthy.

“How was that, Ellie? Pretty good, eh? Enough of everything. I think we’re good to go.”

They travelled into the park. The last time that they had been here it was July, and hotter than Hades. It was September now, and still hot — not melt-your-shoes hot, but still sweat-through-your-shirt hot.

“Do you remember the rattlesnake, Ellie?” Harry said, and smiled.

During their first trip to Badlands, Eleanor, an avid photographer, had been taking photos. She was wearing shorts, tee-shirt, and her usual Birkenstock sandals, and had hopped off the boardwalk and wandered across the sand, hoping to get the perfect photo.  Squatting, camera in hand, she had taken a number of closeup sots of an interestingly shaped plant on the desert floor — click, click, click. As she was rising to stand she had heard something, and had frozen in place.

Tsssssss.

“Harry,” she said slowly, keeping her eyes on the desert floor, “did you hear that?”

“No,” Harry had said, safely standing on the boardwalk, three metres away. “What is it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. What does it sound like to you?

Harry listened.

Tsssssss.

“Cicadas.”

Eleanor slowly turned her head to look at her husband. “In what trees, Harry?” He looked around. Oh, ya. They were in the dessert. Other than a few stunted mesquite trees, it was nothing but sand and rock.

Eleanor turned slowly back toward the sound. It was coming from right in front of her.

“I think I’ve disturbed a rattlesnake, Harry. The sound’s coming from under a rock right by my left ankle.” She had looked back at him, then turned back towards the rattle sound.

Tsssssss.

“Harry, I’m going to walk slowly backwards. Hopefully I won't get bitten.”

Eleanor had taken small, careful, reversing steps. Slowly, step by step, until she was a good metre away from the sound. Then she had turned and walked quickly back to the boardwalk, looking all around, expecting to be attacked by a rhumba of rattlesnakes at any moment. Her adrenaline was pumping, and she had jumped up on the boardwalk so quickly, she almost fell over the other side.

Once she was sure she was safe, Eleanor shook her whole body, trying to dispel the creepy feeling she had just experienced.

“Yuck,” was all she said. Then she noticed the sign.

STAY ON BOARDWALK! RATTLESNAKE DANGER!

“Oh,” she had said. “I didn’t see that.” The same sign was repeated every couple of metres down the board walk.

Harry chuckled, recalling the look on Eleanor’s face when she had seen the sign. Not careless by nature, but when it came to photography, she sometimes developed tunnel vision — she was always after the best shot.

“Ha,” Harry said now, “the look on your face.”

They had spent another night back at the BLM site, and headed out early the next morning, heading west. No Greatest Hits Tour would have been complete without a visit to Old Faithful.

Harry and Eleanor had been to Yellowstone National Park four times — twice with the kids, once alone, and once in the winter. 

Harry had made reservations to camp in the northern part of the park for another night of boon-docking.  They had always camped when they visited Yellowstone. The second time they had visited Yellowstone they had camped out in a camper trailer — not much more than a tent on wheels.  That was the first time any of them had ever heard wolves howl in the wild. The kids had been teenagers, 17 and 14, respectively, and far too cool to enjoy themselves on a vacation with their parents. Jay had insisted on his own tent, because there was no way he was going to sleep with anyone. It had been about two in the morning when the wolves had started to howl, and thirty seconds later when Jay had dragged his sleeping bag into the tent.

“I was so nervous, with you out there. Thanks for coming in.” Eleanor had opted to make it about her fear, not Jay’s, thereby saving his teenaged-boy ego.

“They weren’t going to eat him. He’s too stinky” added Amanda.

“Shutup!” said Jay.

“Hey, I’d rather listen to the wolves than to you two arguing,” cut in Harry. They’d all lain in their beds — Jay on the floor in his sleeping bag — and listened to the lonely howl of the wolves.  Magical.

Harry wondered if the wolves would serenade them tonight, like they had twenty-some-odd years ago.  Because it was still early, they drove down to Grand Teton National Park, Eleanor’s absolute favourite park based on its stunning scenery.  

When they had visited the park for the first time, they had been alone, no kids. Eleanor had been gobsmacked by the jagged peaks of the Tetons — the mountains rising into the sky, the image reflecting in the calm waters of Jenny Lake, almost picture perfect. Harry and Eleanor had taken the ferry to the far shore and had walked all along the lake’s edge.

“It’s beautiful,” said Eleanor. “I’m stunned.” She’d looked at Harry. “We’ve been all over the world, and this is one of the most beautiful vistas I have ever seen!”

She had turned and hugged Harry. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Harry smiled at the memory.

They had no firm plans after Yellowstone, just the deadline of meeting Jay and Amanda in Tofino, BC in four days. It was decided that they would travel to Cottage Grove, Oregon, even though it was way, way, out of their way. But, Cottage Grove was home to their favourite lodge in the entire world, the Village Green. Fifteen years ago, they had been travelling down the West Coast Highway, and the lodge in Cottage Grove had been recommended to them. They had made a reservation, site unseen, and it wasn’t until they arrived, that they realized what a truly wonderful gem happenstance had handed them. Everything was amazing. Eleanor was particularly enchanted by the gardens, all fourteen acres of them. She and Harry had wandered for hours, both surprised and amazed at the variety and depth of a west coast vegetation. Eleanor had said that she was jealous of the long, temperate growing season. Whenever they had been anywhere near Oregon they stayed at the Village Green.

Now they were doing it again, for the fifth time. An evening spent walking around the gardens rejuvenated the soul.

Morning arrived early, and with a fourteen hour drive to Banff, Alberta, they set out before first light. There had been talk of taking an extra travel day, but Harry was excited to get to Banff tonight. But that did not mean that they wouldn’t cruise through the Three Sisters lava fields, and the Dee Wright observatory.

On their second trip without the kids, they had stumbled into the lava fields by accident. It was truly a sight — and a site — to behold. Both Harry and Eleanor had been speechless that first time. The lava fields appeared almost surreal — suddenly, around a bend in the road, and a vast, black, moonscape had materialized. Both he and Eleanor were in awe of this display of nature’s might.

Harry didn’t think a short detour to Three Sisters would make any difference time-wise, knowing it was time well-spent. It was still a surprise when they rounded the bend and the fields came into view — lifeless, with the exception of a lone tree perched on a hill that had not been covered by the encroaching lava. During the depression, the Civilian Conservation Corps had built the odd, circular, Dee Wright observatory. Built from the lava itself, it was the lone indicator of man’s intrusion on the land, aside from the road they travelled on. It was truly a sight to behold.  

They passed through the lava fields without stopping, and headed northeast towards Banff. Much later, after another easy border crossing, they rolled into Banff. They headed up the hill to the Banff Springs Hotel. Both he and Eleanor had worked at hotel, but at different times. The closest they had come to being guests had been ten years ago, when they had eaten lunch on the outdoor patio. This time, though, they were arriving as overnight guests. Their room was lovely and spacious, but it was the the hotel itself that held the cachet, which, and when combined with the stunning views, justified the exorbitant room rates. Harry said that fifty years later, they could afford to spend at least one night in the grand hotel where they had both worked. He felt that it would be nice to be the ones being served, as opposed to those doing the serving. This was, after all, a nostalgia trip.

The next morning, Harry and Eleanor were again on the road by sunup. It was a twelve hour drive to Victoria, including the ferry ride, and three more to their next stop.  

The trip through the Rockies always pleased Eleanor. The first time that they had driven this way she had told Harry about her first impressions.

“I was coming in from Calgary on the bus. We were on the prairies, then BAM we were in the mountains. It was breathtaking. The mountains were so close to the road, I felt I could reach out and touch them.”  

She also told the story about when she and her friend Charlotte had decided to hitchhike to Calgary.  

“Not the best plan. This was before the new TransCanada Highway was built, and the road was a single lane blacktop part of the way. Most of the vehicles that passed us were either families with camper vans or tractor trailers. We must have walked for three hours before we got a ride. Finally a transport truck stopped for us, and we crowded in, both of us sitting on the single front seat. The guy was pretty young, but super creepy. He kept looking at us, leering. I was pretty scared for most of the ride. We took the bus back to Banff.” She had stopped and looked at Harry. “I can’t believe how stupid we were.” 

Driving along the highway now, Harry turned to Eleanor, and said, “I bet you’re thinking that driving in this swanky van is a whole hell of a lot better than trying to thumb a ride.” He chortled.

They arrived on Vancouver Island around six o’clock that night. They had a reservation at Parksville RV Resort, and headed straight there. They had stayed there before, and had liked it. But it was the kids. Both Jay and Amanda had fallen in love with the island on that trip. Now, twenty-five years later, Jay lived in Victoria, and Amanda lived in Tofino.  

Eleanor used say, “This beautiful island has captured both of our children.”

The next morning, they met Jay and Amanda in Tofino. There were hugs and kisses and greetings all around.  

They had chartered a boat to take them out on to the ocean. The two hour ride was mostly in silence, each person trapped in their own thoughts. When the boat stopped on the calm ocean far from land, the family gathered at the stern. Harry picked up the urn, and removed the lid.

“Good bye Eleanor, my love. We had a fantastic last road trip, didn’t we? I love you forever, and I will miss you always. Godspeed.”

He tipped the urn, and the three of them watched as Eleanor’s ashes landed on the surface of the ocean, and were gently swept away by the current.