A Very Canadian Start to Summer

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June 19^th. Nearly the first day of summer. For many the first day of summer conjures up memories of hot days spent at the lake or long evenings in front of a camp fire. Since it was a Wednesday and I made the mistake of growing up, I was working. Not that it mattered though. The weather was decidedly un-summer-like, with single digit temperatures and torrential rain. One would be hard pressed to do much of anything outside except for drown. I had just left Edmonton on my way to Grande Cache and the sky was telling me to “get stuffed” as it pummelled the hood of my truck with rain. I was so glad I invested in some rain pants. Early 20’s Tyler would have thought rain gear is for squares and he was too cool for anything that wasn’t jeans and black t-shirt. Late 20’s Tyler wears his bright orange rain jacket with pride in these conditions… over his jeans and black t-shirt.

Road trips can be tough by yourself. Most radio stations out here are garbage and sometimes one grows tired of their own music. You can try calling a family member in an attempt to get them to entertain you, but as you discover the more familiar ones are unavailable you debate dialing that estranged 3^rd cousin (twice removed) in Manitoba. No, you’re pretty much left with eating “road snacks” as a means of entertainment. My choice these days are gummy Starbursts. No wrappers and no sugar, salt, or simulated cheese powder to get all over your fingers and everything else in your vehicle. I picked up a bag in Edson, confident they’d last me until well past Hinton. I ate a cherry one. Then a strawberry one. Then two orange ones then OH SHIT THEY’RE GONE. They didn’t even last half an hour. Hmm. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I debated what to do next. What was that cousin in Manitoba’s name again…?

Actually one other form of entertainment on the freeway is the “Anal RV Game”. Those who read about my adventures with Ken to the Grand Canyon will be quite familiar with this game and will probably dismiss the rest of this story as adolescent tripe. For the more discerning reader, the RV game is when you take the model name of a passing RV or trailer and add the word “anal” to it in whatever fashion is the funniest. Gems from the Grand Canyon trip included the “Anal Jamboree GT” and “Anal Crusader”. On this journey I encountered “Anal Impact” and “Anal Surveyor”. But by far the winner was the “Anal Swinger” in all it’s 1970’s glory parked derelict on the industrial end of Grande Cache.

To my surprise when I reached Grande Cache it wasn’t raining and the sun was making a concerted effort to poke through the clouds. I checked into the aptly named “Grande Cache Hotel” for the night. The hotel’s prime rib will “blow your mind” according to the attractive, suggestively gasping woman depicted on the front wall. Before turning in for the night I went out to the “Sulphur Gates”, the area where the Sulphur and Smoky Rivers converge inbetween tall conglomerate rock formations blanketed in lush green trees. Being all alone I laid on the metal catwalk viewing platform and closed my eyes, enjoying the sounds of the rivers rushing and the robins chirping. It was peaceful. So peaceful in fact I “let one rip” and sniggered at how the platform vibrated in response.

My inspection at the mine the next day was uneventful. It rained, then snowed, then slushed, then rained, then some sort of ice-slush-rain hybrid freak precipitation I didn’t even know existed. No single piece of clothing could have prepared me for everything I encountered that day. There’s really not much else to say. It was work. Still happy to do it and would take it over being downtown any day.

As I left the mine a saw something on the side of the road. Typically in this part of the world this would mean either a deer preparing to test your collision insurance coverage with its torso or a raven ripping little strips of organs off of said deer shortly after the aforementioned test. But no. This was legitimately a sight to behold. At first I thought it was a lynx, but as I approached I saw an unmistakable long, bushy tail. A cougar scurried across the road in a way only a svelte feline apex predator could. He shall henceforth be referred to as “Pookie”.

Pookie disappeared into the ditch before I even had a chance to pull the truck over for a quick picture. But slowing down I noticed a few horses were corralled in the trees. I began to suspect Pookie was about to go through a rite of passage as young cougar and learn a valuable lesson about live stock. That or his siblings put him up to it. “Oh yeah those horse things are poofs” they told him. “Make sure you go for the hind legs and then try and bite them in the ass. It’s the safest way.”

The drive between Grande Cache and Hinton was interesting. The government has seen fit to “fix” the only highway out of town and in the process they’ve made several 20+ kilometer long “construction zones”. The term “construction zone” implies something is being constructed but in practice these zones have a maximum capacity to host a single backhoe operator and sixteen supervisors, all clustered at about kilometer 8 or so. They want to give you plenty of space to careen off the road before you hit the actual “work” zone, which is a 500 m stretch at best. Today’s journey was further complicated by the “Caribou Patrol”. This ungulate enthusiast group has installed questionably legal speed limit signs dictating a 70km/h limit on this 100 km/h highway due to “caribou on the road”. The caribou are aware of this and have collectively agreed to never been on this road or by the Caribou Patrol again. The signs may make most people keep a closer eye out for wildlife but drivers are primarily motivated by their need for Instragram-worthy photos rather than their own safety or desire to comply with fake traffic laws. Today the Caribou Patrol was out in full force with their big truck and tactical Caribou Patrol trailer full of… more traffic signs? Bait? Traps? The World-Wide Caribou Tracking Mobile Command Centre (WWCTMCC)? They putted along the winding single lane highway with a huge line of cars stacking up behind them. At any given moment I expected them to veer off into the ditch at a possible sighting then get air as they flew back onto the road when they released it was just another God damn deer.

After taking advantage of one of the few passing points on this road to get around the caribou traffic menace, conditions became… well, utter shit. A few inches of thick slush threatened to pull even experienced drivers into the ditch should they stray from the established tracks; the tracks which were uncomfortably close to oncoming traffic. A Honda Pilot came flying up behind me, just as more snow began to fall. “With my SUV and massive testicles I’m practically invincible” the driver said to himself, getting ready to pass by me at tremendous speed. Well I guess those balls weren’t quite big enough as he started to slip in the slush and backed off substantially. I’m glad I didn’t have to be a witness to yet another Canadian motorist who doesn’t know how to handle snow.

Conditions improved after Hinton. I would almost call them “seasonal” but what does that even mean in this province anymore. To finish off my day a black bear graced me with his presence just outside of Drayton Valley. I then capped of this decidedly un-summer like drive with the guaranteed stomach-ache that is the Nanimo bar McFlurry. Something vaguely Canadian to start a very Canadian summer.

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Photos

Vital Highway Entertainment
This content is rated "N" for Nomnomnom

The Swinger
It's so 70's I'm surprised it doesn't have a hairy radiator and porn-stache

The Sulphur Gates
That smell is definitely just the sulphur... not me trying digest the gelatinous sugar compound snacks I had earlier

Highway 40
WHAT A LOVELY DAY!