Connection made. Discussion for a few months and a few meet and greet hangouts. Some sign indicators. Ignored that. Back to original connection. Walls closing in. Feeling that desperation and fear stalking me. More discussion. Offer made. Another call. Yet more discussion.
Waiting.........
A half day later, it’s a go with phone call confirmations. Get organized. Some aggravation there. Don’t think about it, make it happen. Some more little signs. No time for that. Four days later and it’s on the road at just after 4:00 am in a truck. I’m not driving. I do not like driving. Never have, never will. I do it when the situation calls for it. Someone else please drive, I want to be the dog with my head out the window, ears flapping in the breeze.
Just before leaving, the anxiety tried to grab hold with the thought, “What are you doing?” I took ten minutes time out and crushed it under my boot. Once on the road, it was gone completely.
Part of my job was to map out the entire trip, basing overnight stops on 12-15 hour spurts of driving. Driving across Canada at least once is a long time Canadian rite. I’ve never done it, never cared. Travelling has always been low on my list. Other things in my life always took precedent over that. In addition, I am only motivated to travel if it’s to spend time with family or a friend. Most of my real travelling has been of a very different nature, one that’s fundamentally altered my life.
Things are chill the first day. Only slight whispers of what was to come.
TRAVERSE
ONTARIO
We land at the first overnight spot. It’s a tiny town a previous partner and I used to make jokes about. That memory comes back instantly. The plan was to sleep in the truck. He got the back of the truck. I took the back seat of the cab to sleep in. That was the arrangement that fit best.
People eyeballed the truck as we drove around and down to the beach. Small town life. Not unfamiliar to me. Instant reminder of being an outsider, what are they doing here? Located the spot I’d selected and settled for the night.
Next day, on the road again just after sunrise and securing coffee. Driving for what feels like forever all along Lake Superior. Does Ontario ever end? I had no interest in stopping anywhere to check out anything. I had a mission. That was my complete focus. Enjoying the trip for the experience was irrelevant.
When someone else is driving, you’re kind of at their mercy. They are, after all, in the driver’s seat. On the way, I was pressured to take over driving in Manitoba. Not part of the agreement. I held firm. Not driving. That’s your job and what you agreed to. I’m not fond of driving other people’s vehicles, but that’s another story.
OLD WOMAN’S BAY
Chatted to a few bikers at a rest stop and the guy I’m with decides we’re going to check out their suggestion, Old Woman’s Bay Fine, whatever. I humour him. It’s easier. I’m not sorry we stop though. It was stunning. Took my breath away. Seeing my raven friends again was also a treat. I don’t get to see them where I live.
One of the bikers arrived there before us. We chat with him again. I’m starting to get antsy. We’re on a schedule and a limited time frame. I nudge gently to get back on the road. Finally we do and make it to the town close to the border of Manitoba.
He wants to stay at a motel. I do not. I’ll sleep in the truck. I had already said I would not be sleeping in any motels. He has a thing about shower facilities. Roughing it the way I have doesn’t fit what he wants. “No problem, you sleep in the motel. I’m good with that”.
Not good enough. Drama.“Why won’t you sleep in a motel? Were you traumatized in one?” he says. I laughed. No, I’ve just never liked hotels and motels. Why though? Why? Not explaining is unacceptable. I sigh inside. I don’t want to tell him why because he might get all bunched up about it himself. He won’t let up, keeps grilling me. At this point I just want him to stop barbecuing me. I tell him why. He takes his all sleeping gear into the hotel and sleeps on top of the bed because of it. I laugh to myself. I sleep out in the truck. I have my own space without him in it. Nice.
ROCK WALL
MANITOBA
He’s kind enough to “let me” use the shower in his hotel room before we head out the next day. Grab coffee and on the road again. I had set it up to blow through Manitoba without having to overnight there. It wasn’t a good idea, based on what I looked into before leaving. We stop just inside Manitoba. He wants to sit down and eat. I did not. I’d packed and planned so that was unnecessary. Found a place to sit down and eat. Shocker. We eat. Off again. Brief refuel stop in Winnipeg. The place gives me the creeps. In fact most of Manitoba does, my first time being there.
CLOUD SHADOWS
SASKATCHEWAN
On to the overnight location I’d mapped out. Not good enough for him. He takes another road off the highway to see where this park is. Forty-five minutes later we arrive at Saskatchewan Landing Provincial Park
PARK POINT
Glad I didn’t miss it. I’ve never seen a provincial park like it in Canada. I never thought I’d like Saskatchewan, too flat, but my whole perspective changed once there. I wanted to stay at the same park on the way back. He says no, staying at different place on the way back. No picking anymore desert sage to take home. He only allowed me a handful. I picked more when he wasn’t looking, got busted and had to listen to a verbal bashing for a half hour after he tried to rip it out of my hands.
DESERT SAGE
ALBERTA
Not my favourite place, been here before, don’t like the climate. He wants to eat in, again. Why was I ordered to pack enough food for the entire trip? Whatever. Go ahead, pick where you want to eat. I’ll make myself a sandwich. Not good enough. I have to eat with him. Fine. Another meal of aggravation swallowed down. On the road again.
ROCKY MOUNTAINS
BRITISH COLUMBIA
Seeing the mountains start to rise just outside Calgary gave me that thrill I haven’t had in years. I rolled down the window and screamed for the sheer joy of seeing those mountains again while we roared down the highway. I love mountains. We stop at Kicking Horse Pass next. It’s a pass through the mountains like no other. I’ve done it before on a bus tour from Calgary to Vancouver. I never forgot it.
KICKING HORSE PASS
On to our overnight location, Golden. Yes, it is g o l d e n. Shower needs again for him. He picked a campground to overnight there instead of what I’d mapped out. At least I’m down with camping. It was a great spot. He wanted to eat at a restaurant again. Fine. Off the next morning, down to the south Okanagan, wine country and a semi-desert environment.
VIEWPOINT
FINAL DESTINATION
Mission halfway completed now. Gratitude and some space. I get a little tour of what is potentially my new “home”. I’m not impressed. I’m wondering why these people think they can make a go out of a community when they obviously have no clue what they are doing. I say nothing. I watch and listen. I make mental notes. I am a guest, after all, and still need to get back from this trip in one piece. Eight days there. I had to beg for an extra day and a half (necessary mental fortification for the trip back).
COYOTE RIDGE
Beautiful place, like a killer hot dry sauna, not something I’m used to. I felt like human jerky in the making. Nights would cool right down, typical of the mountains. I had forgotten how much I like that. I saw a coyote for the first time, up on a ridge in the twilight. They are BIG.
It was impossible to relax at all, unless I was alone for several hours. I only managed that twice while there. I needed it to recharge. I always do.
Picked a small handful of Oregon Grapes (sour, I like sour) and about two tablespoons of Elderberries, also something I’m quite familiar with. I threw them in a zippy bag together for the trip back.
OREGON GRAPE
Goodbyes said to our hosts, a couple. They thought we would prefer it if they weren’t there when we left. How weird is that? The man is a four year friend of the guy driving the truck and the one I was in contact with first. That’s how this thing was set up in the first place. Weirdness. Lots of red flags. Nothing sitting well with me. He had that slick sales pitch talk on the phone, so I was already suspicious. Charming like a snake.
Retrace the path back now. North to Golden again. He’d already threatened to throw me off a mountain (jokingly?) on the way back if I were a problem. I laughed when he said it, but caught the menace underneath. Another mental note made. On guard, it’s going to be a rocky trip home through the Rocky Mountains.
Arrival at Golden. He picked some nonsense, don’t recall what now, to go to town on me for. Another hour and a half verbal bashing session. Finally, after dark, I get things smoothed over. This is temporary. I must get home. I’m strategic. Its four more days on the road with this maniac.
Next morning, he fishes out the zip bag of berries and says, “Are you going to eat these? They’re going to spoil. Come on, eat them”. I took the bag. My intuition said, “Don’t eat them, you’ll be sorry”. I ignored that, tipped the bag up and ate them in two mouthfuls. We go get coffee. While waiting for coffees 30 min later, I start to feel it. I tell him I need to go lay on a bench while he gets the coffees. He complains. I insist and go lay down on the bench while I wait and attempt to get a read on what’s happening in my body.
ELDERBERRY
Its 40 minutes in. I know I’ve poisoned myself. Cyanide poisoning.Elderberries contain a chemical constituent that changes to cyanide. I’ve never had a problem with them before. I’m starting to hallucinate slightly, blurry vision, can’t walk properly and can’t stop vomiting. He’s freaking out about me wasting a coffee not drank and vomiting, such a disgusting thing to do. I already had a read on how bad the poisoning was, so I knew a hospital stop wasn’t required.
TREK
We drove through the mountains while I lay in the back cab, waiting it out. This went on the whole day through the mountains. I slept through most of it, with one stop to have another exit of all fluids. More complaining from him about that and also that I missed seeing the mountains.
ROLLING HILLS
Back to Saskatchewan, same Provincial Park, since I told him I didn’t care. A little reversal works well with him (mental note from before). Still shaky, tired, can’t eat and drinking water like it’s the fashion statement of the year. Sleep, glorious sleep. Next day, most of it had passed through me. A cleanse like no other I’ve done. Nothing like a good poisoning that doesn’t kill you.
Breakfast, coffees and on the road flat out, expect for pit stops until we hit the same small town just inside the Ontario border. Sleep stop. More drama in the morning. On the road again. He’s not in a good mood.
TOUCHY
A small thing sets him off on the way to the next overnight spot. I had a large bag of some gourmet chips I’d bought but not eaten. He helped himself without asking. I said, “You could have asked first”. Should be no big deal, right? Wrong. Huge abusive tirade, trapped in the truck with him for about four hours solid. I had taken ear plugs with me. I had a feeling I’d need them. He didn’t notice me put them in. I could still hear him ranting even with earplugs, but they helped.
Landed back at Old Woman’s Bay to overnight; he’s still not done. I want to get away from him, so I’m out of the truck and walking away to get some space as soon as he parks. All the while, this intense sick feeling has been churning inside about any decision to move to British Columbia. When it’s like that, I know, don’t do whatever it is. Decided right there, not moving. Instant relief. Now, just the maniac to deal with.
That was what I thought anyway. Next morning, he’s sleeping in, hasn’t done it once through the whole trip. Something’s up, I could feel it. Early mourning, down to the beach I go. Sitting on a log, trying to collect my thoughts, and have some much needed time alone.
OLD WOMAN’S BAY II
Next thing I hear, “Do you mind if I sit here?”, while he’s already sitting down. Nice move. I’d been clocking him since the night before. I’m thinking, “Really?” He’s a complete stranger, a bit older than me, well acquainted with the area, hunter and trapper, so I found out. Not that I wanted to know. I just wanted to be left alone.
He did his best to make inroads. Was obsessed with my hair (something I endure and try to ignore). “I can tell you’re not with him”, says the hunter. I thought yeah, I know, I’m in your sights. I’m thinking, “How can I get rid of this one?” Maniac in the truck wakes up, comes over to where I am now, up by the hunter’s van, a white van. I make use of the change of situation and slip away. I’m hungry and need to take care of a few other needs. The hunter’s eyes never leave me no matter how far away. I could feel them burning through the back of my head.
Finally extracted and back on the road with the maniac. He’s gone into a dark mood. It’s tense. I can feel the storm coming. I stick in my earbuds, music time. Focus on relaxing. Focus on listening intently and not with my ears. I see him change direction, not taking the highway to my place as was planned. Earbuds out, I ask. He says, “We’re going to my place first. I don’t trust you to pay your half of the trip, so we’re going there to settle up where there are witnesses”. He shares a house with two other guys, both of whom I met and chatted with on a few occasions before the trip. Both of them okay guys. One is the owner of house and has known the maniac since childhood.
LOOMING
I wanted to argue. My intuition said to let it play out this way. I’m off leash from my phone, as is always the case. I do have my hunting knife; wouldn’t travel without it. I wait. We arrive. He says, “Grab what you need for the night. You’re not going home tonight”. I was enraged. Into the house we go. Both guys are home. One asleep and the owner was about to do the same. He’s not pleased at my being there overnight, one of his rules. I don’t want to be there either. He gives up and goes upstairs.
I go sit in the tiny fenced in backyard to think. I’m seeing red at this point, I’m so enraged. I need a few minutes to breathe and make decisions. I decide I’m going home. I walk back in and ask him for a phone. “What for?” he says. “I’m going home. I need a cab” I tell him. That’s not happening. Things escalate. He’s screaming at me and using his body to block me from leaving the house. I’m in a state of cold, controlled rage. Need to be strategic here. I hold my ground. He gets even louder and right up in my face, threatening me.
Seems like a physical assault is next up on his menu. I’m wearing my large knapsack with hunting knife near at hand. I don’t want it to go there. I really don’t need another thing on my plate, especially not a mess like that. I hold back. The owner comes charging downstairs, gets between us and tries to get the maniac to de-escalate. It’s not happening. He tries harder and is shielding me with his body.
SHIELD
Fifteen minutes later, he manages to get the maniac to allow me to exit the house out the front door. Maniac follows outside, continuing his tirade at a loud volume. It’s around 2:30 am now. I’m getting my stuff out of his truck as fast as possible and loading it into the owner’s car. He’s taking me down to the train station. We’ll call a cab from there, where it’s safe to do so. Drama continues. I don’t breathe until we are in the car and on the way. We talk; things will have to get sorted regarding my share of the trip. I need copies of the receipts and how to get the money to maniac. I’m not seeing him again, period.
In a cab and shooting down the highway to my place. Still can’t relax. I’m on high alert, ready to roll. Delivered home, stuff hauled upstairs and I’m safe now in my apartment. Maniac sent me a threatening text in the meantime. Whatever. I block him. I’ll sort things with his friend.
Last time I had to deal with a threatening male, a far more dangerous one I know too well, was in 2018. My mind flashes back to that. I need to get grounded. I feel like I’m floating out in space somewhere. I get on that immediately. Almost a week passes by before I’m able to get grounded. Things get settled within two weeks around my share of the trip. It’s over. I shake the whole thing off, let go, and move on.
Some details have been omitted to protect the privacy of those involved.
Do you have a survival story?
ROCK SOLID, BLUE SKY
All photos taken by Nine with a Pentax digital 35mm camera.
