I just came back from my road trip across Canada, driving from Ottawa, Ontario to Terrace, British Columbia and then flying to Vancouver. I stayed there for 9 days before then flying back to Ottawa.

It was my dream to drive across Canada, to see the prairies, to camp in British Columbia. I got to do all of that, and it was everything I hoped it would be.

Planning

The trip was the result of my friend Kammy. She was heading to a community far up north in British Columbia to work for the year, and was looking for people to join her on the long drive out. I gave her a tentative yes, provided I went through with leaving my workplace.

Well, I did that. We spent two nights planning, figuring out where we would camp each night and what essentials we needed to bring along.

I was anxious. I had only hung out with Kammy twice outside of church, and didn’t know how it would be to spend 8 days together. What if we irritated each other? What if her music was REALLY bad? What if we had a fight? So we talked about that, and how we would deal. I was also anxious about driving through the states and getting pulled over, and about the vehicle itself: it was a 17 year old SUV that Kammy hadn’t yet acquired. What if it broke down?

Kammy was also anxious. So the two of us water sacs of anxiety drove off for 6,000 km. And you know what? It all turned out great.

The Trip Out

First Two Nights

We spent the first night in Toronto. I stayed with my friend Amanda, who I hadn’t seen in years. Kammy stayed with her family. It was lovely to catch up with Amanda; we had tons of magical moments together from her time in Ottawa. Like baking cookies at midnight and going around town hoping to catch art installations. Her life had changed in big ways since then, and it was great to finally see each other.

Then Kammy came around Amanda’s place in the morning, and the two of us headed off. Kammy told me she was nervous. The carriage behind the car, which held four winter tires, started to droop dangerously low from the hitch. We found a hardware store, bought ratchet straps, moved two of the tires inside the already-packed car, and put the carriage into the vertical position. That seemed to do the trick.

We crossed into the US in Sarnia. I was concerned they would pull us over and inspect the contents of the vehicle, which would of added big delays considering how full it was. There was no such problem, though the drive from Toronto had taken longer than anticipated on account of mucking with the carriage.

We drove through Detroit rush hour and drove into Indiana. it started to get dark, and now the rear window for the car wouldn’t close. We were still at least two hours from our $6/night camp site in Illinois, which required parking the SUV in a lot and then hiking for a bit to reach.

I suggested we forget about the camp site, and said that I would get us a hotel room for the night. We could make up the time for the next day, and deal with the window tomorrow, but right now we should just get a good night’s rest. Kammy agreed.

At the hotel parking lot, Kammy discovered a trick to close or open the window. It involved driving over bumps. Good enough. We were in Michigan City, Indiana. I had a good shower, read a bit of A Handful of Time, and crashed.

Third & Fourth Night

The next day we drove through Chicago during morning rush hour. We were both concerned about getting pulled over, and so didn’t go more too much over the speed limit. A Chicago driver that wasn’t pleased with our speed, as it was too slow, gestured, honked, and yelled at us.

We stopped by a Subway for lunch. At this point, we were keeping an eye out for the eclipse. The first total eclipse was hitting North America since 1979, and we were a few hundred kilometres north of those who would get to see the sun completely covered. We almost missed it – it was Kammy who noticed it was happening while we were in the parking lot.

We crossed from Illinois into Wisconsin, and then Minnesota. We camped out at state park by Lake Carlos, which ended up being amazing. The lady at the desk was genuinely happy to see us. The place, like almost all camping spots on our trip, was mostly for RVs. We tried out my BioLite and made ourselves a nice camp fire.

That night was magical. There was a clear sky, and I got to see thousands of stars and the milky way. I had only ever seen the milky way once before. The lake in front of our camping spot was still, and all the stars reflected onto it. Just above the tree line on the other side of the lake, you could see the glow from a nearby town.

As I fell asleep, I heard wolves howl in the distance.

The next day, we drove through North Dakota and crossed into Canada through the small town of Portal. Half of Portal was in North Dakota, the other half in Saskatchewan. We were the only non-commercial vehicle to cross, which resulted in a bit of temporary confusion about which line to go into. We were inspected at two check points by CBSA, and again I feared they would pull us over. They opened doors and went through Kammy’s clothes while we were in line, but didn’t get any issues.

We spent the fourth night at a camp site in Estevan, Saskatchewan. This one was a bit of a disappointment compared to Lake Carlos. We were the only tent there, and the place was clearly intended for RVs. There were electric plugs by our tent. Sites were clearly marked for RVs but not those who were tenting. Still, there were washrooms with flush toilets and showers.

Fifth Night

The fifth day we drove through Saskatchewan, passing Regina and Saskatoon. Whereas Kammy and I, who were chatting about everything from sex to religion to sex plus religion, were noticing all the anti-abortion billboards in the states, we couldn’t help but notice all the bible camp signs in Sasktatchewan. There was also a sign that said PREPARE TO MEET GOD at one point.

It was on this stretch that I finally saw the prairies. There was hints of the flatness in North Dakota, but not like this. It was stunning.

We crossed into Alberta and camped at a place just outside Edmonton. Kammy’s friend, who labelled themselves the Edmonton Tourist Board, recommended a few spots to visit while we were there. They didn’t disappoint.

Edmonton reminded me of Ottawa. I really liked it. We hit up a vegan restaurant, Cafe Mosaics. The food was pretty awesome, and a welcome reprieve from the camp food we had been making. There was also a flyer to protest a white supremacist gathering in Calgary. This was on the heels of the Charleston white supremacist gathering and in which one bigot plowed down those protesting the event with his car.

We then hit up a little hole in the wall that had delicious onion cakes that we saved for the next day.

Sixth Night

The next day, we hit up a nearby provincial park that Edmonton Tourist Board had also recommended. There we ran into a herd of bison. We stopped to take in the view. They were everywhere.

We continued driving. Where once there was flat land, now were mountains. We were in the Canadian Rockies. We passed Jasper, stopping to take a hike along the way and stopping by Mount Robson to take a look.

We entered British Columbia and drove to our camping spot outside of Prince George. That too, proved breathtaking.

Seventh Night

The next day we headed for Terrace. We were going to camp up Kitwanga Mountain, which was free, provided you could get there. Google Maps didn’t show any roads for it, but the BC Parks site had some directions. We had a backup plan of going to a motel in Terrace if none of it worked out.

We drove almost all of the Highway of Tears that day, from Prince George to Terrace. There were posters at gas stations, signs by the road, offering rewards to find women who went missing after being on this highway. A large billboard warned residents not to hitchhike, but what option do you have when you don’t have access to a car?

We arrived at the base of the road that would take us up Kitwanga Mountain. A sign at the bottom cautioned only 4x4s to proceed. We made our way up. 500 meters in, we encountered a tree that had drooped so much it was flush with the road. We decided to drive through it, thinking the car would push it out of the way.

We got stuck on the tree. We got out of the car to inspect. The tree was jammed in there. We stopped to think what we would do. Much like the carriage drooping and the window not closing, we remained calm. We had a bread knife, and so decided to cut down the tree with that.

It worked! We got through the tree, taking turns. The base of the tree almost took Kammy’s leg off as it rebounded. Kammy was able to drive over the tree at this point, and I threw it in the woods.

There were a few more felled logs ahead of us blocking the road. Those Kammy and I moved together. Eventually, we got to a spot we couldn’t drive the SUV further. So we parked it to the side, and hiked the rest of the mountain to the intended turn around spot.

It was likely no one would come that night, as at least three trees blocked the road until our arrival, and those had been there for a while. I was still scared about waking up to a car running us over. We set up camp anyways; it was the only viable clearing that wasn’t a road.

From the turn-around spot, Kammy and I continued up the trail. At one point, I got freaked out. There were cries from what sounded like an elk. That was fine. But then there was a distant, deep, stomping sound from a different direction. My anxiety infected Kammy. We both turned around and went to the camp. I regretted not picking up bear spray in Edmonton at this moment.

It started to rain. We quickly prepared food and put our stuff in a bear hang.

We hit the tent, and the two of us being pretty scared, held each other as we fell asleep.

Departure

The next morning was raining pretty hard. We packed up as quickly as we could and made our way down to the SUV.

Kammy dropped me off at the airport, and after some heart felt goodbyes I boarded the plane to head down to Vancouver.

The plane flew at a low altitude compared to the larger passenger aircraft I was used to, giving me a stunning view of the mountains below.

Kammy and I made excellent travel partners. We both had different taste in music, but both liked some of each other’s stuff. We had tons of really great conversations. We both stayed calm when things went wrong, came up with solutions, and went ahead. All that anxiety in the beginning about what would happen if we didn’t get along seemed a little silly now.

I was also proud of myself for driving through the US. I haven’t driven much in my life, not being a car owner, and having never rented a car. The biggest trip up until this point had been a drive to Toronto as a support vehicle while my best friend walked his way down as part of a fundraiser.

In the end, the trip, including gas, food, and lodging, was under $900 CAD. It took us 7 nights to get there. Best $450 I ever spent.

Vancouver

Jean welcomed me at the airport in Vancouver. I was spending the first night with her. The next day she took me to Boundary Bay.

In the first days I was pretty awful company. A bunch of emotions were coming to the fore, and I was pretty terrible at dealing with them constructively. That started to change the second day.

In my time in Vancouver, Jean showed me some gems. Cheap sushi. Bao buns that were loaded with tasty fillings for less than $2. A beautiful community garden hidden in between industrial buildings that eschewed pesticides for alternating plant types. A Chinese garden with quiet enclaves downtown that was one of the city’s park.

That second night, I also went to my hostel. I had this place for the remainder of my stay in Vancouver. There I met Gauthier from France, Claire from England, as well as a Moroccan fellow whose name escapes me. I breathed a sigh of relief to see they were a bit older; I’d be able to get some sleep tonight.

Claire and I would eventually befriend each other and go up Grouse Mountain, which was accessible from downtown Vancouver by way of a free shuttle. It was stunning.

Meanwhile, I was eating all the sushi I could while in Vancouver. I must have gone every day. Ottawa had nothing this fresh, inexpensive, or generous in portions.

In addition, I got to hang out with other friends while in Vancouver. My friend Emory, who was the reason for my last visit three years ago. My friend Janelle, who I met through church in Ottawa, and had moved there. My cousin, who had also moved there from Ottawa.

They were all generous with their time. Emory took me to a coffee shop and then bowling, and in so doing, introduced me to Commercial Drive, which seemed to be where the queers hung out more so than Davies Street. A person at the coffee shop had a THEY/THEM patch, while the individual they were talking to had a t-shirt promoting the safe injection site. I saw a few of those shirts while in Vancouver; it made me think of Ottawa where the city was fighting safe injection sites.

Janelle made me a beautiful breakfast, and we had a really sweet chat catching up and seeing her incredible house, that she shared with two roommates. My cousin was also a pleasure to hang out with. We went for breakfast after I had gone to church that Sunday, and on the day of my departure, went for ramen together. Both places were joints he really liked; and the food was pretty great.

As my days in Vancouver came to a close, Jean and I hung out more. She took me to parks inside the city and out. We spent one night walking around a park downtown that had a lake and lots of happy dogs running around.

Vancouver was special. Jean was right. As the injection site t-shirt hinted, people were doing more to stand up for others here. The library, which I spent one afternoon at, had explicit signage to indicate trans people were welcome to use washrooms. You didn’t find those in Ottawa; not in any official building, anyways. Even washroom scribbles were about acceptance. There was a self-defence class for trans people here; as well as a trans barber shop where I went and got my hair done!

Everyone I spoke to loved Vancouver, but they all also spoke of how housing and rent was not affordable. The cost of a one bedroom apartment is double what it is in Ottawa. There are no rent controls. There are ridiculously few apartments going around, so its not uncommon to go through interviews to try to get a place, along with however many others hope to rent that same spot. Housing prices are the second most unaffordable in the world, after only Hong Kong.

I did a lot more while in Vancouver – crossing the Lynn Canyon suspension bridge, visiting Granville Island, looking through shops for contemporary indigenous art to bring back, going to the historic (if you’re queer in Canada, anyways) Little Sisters book shop, hiking through Lighthouse Park, etc. I was out doing something all day for every one of those nine days I was there, taking afternoon breaks in my hostel.

Then came time to say goodbye. Jean dropped me off at the airport. I flew home on an overnight flight, though not without first being diverted to Montreal on account of poor visibility in Ottawa. I took a taxi and made my way home.

Back in Ottawa

As the taxi navigated the familiar streets of Ottawa, the city felt a little different to me. It didn’t feel like home as much. Maybe Vancouver wasn’t as alien in terms of feeling home as I thought.

The next day I got to hang out with Joy, and tell her everything about my trip over beers and nachos. It was one hell of an adventure.

A good friend and I trekked out over Thanksgiving weekend to Philadelphia to see an Aimee Mann concert. For regulars of this blog, you’ll know the friend as JT Alfons.

We arrived to the hotel on Friday evening, headed out to Harrisburg for the concert that night. It was pouring rain and visibility on the roads was terrible. That was a frightening two hours. We were a little behind arriving, but we found the street the venue was on – Walnut St.

Turns out, Harrisburg has two Walnut Streets. Not just “East” and “West”, but two entirely independent roads with the same name. We found the correct one, came in and missed just a few minutes of the opening act. The concert was really enjoyable.

The following morning, we hit up Philly. We ate a Philly Cheesesteak, which I was informed uses Cheese Whiz for the real thing. JT found a spot with a good reputation and we dined. I have to say, I tasted the Whiz. It was pretty disgusting – but it was an experience and I’m glad I had it. We walked around, stumbing on the Philly Trans March. That was really cool. We visited historical sites, many of which were closed due to the government shutdown that’s currently in effect in the US. We hit up the art museum famous for where Stallone’s character from “Rocky” climbed up the steps then made our way back.

That night, we watched FOX News, which was educational. The ads were clearly aimed at elderly viewers and the content was all highly ideological right-wing stuff. They had a show on “Victimhood” in which it was alleged that black people were to blame for racism. In a separate show, they took aim at recipients of food assistance programs, who receive about $4 a day for food. Then against those who were seeking to raise minimum wage from $7 an hour. Watching it, the station seemed to base its spin on its existing spin, further removing itself from predominant perceptions on the ground. Little wonder the outcome of the 2012 election left them baffled.

On Sunday, we went to Atlantic City. What a city of contrasts – a block away from the board walk and its casinos is absolute poverty. We had a sandwich there in a shack called White House, which was the best sub I’ve ever had. The half-size one was still over a foot long, had more meat than a packed deli display, and was all of $6.

There wasn’t much to do in Atlantic City, so after a very pleasant walk we made our way back home.

On Thursday evening, I left for a hacker conference in Las Vegas. This was to be a last hurrah for me. Given that my interest in internet security had waned, I was there not so much for the talks, but to say a final farewell to the friends I had made over the years.

The social aspect was good. There was a convention-within-a-convention named Queercon. That translated into mixers and a pool party with good music and scantily clad men. I got to meet lots of interesting folk all throughout, who worked in the higher echelons of Sony and Google.

Everyone was amicable and I quickly made friends. At one point, I was given a gaydar. Really. This was a device distributed to the queer attendees that lit up when others like it were nearby. It then gave you credit for that interaction, which translated to more diodes lighting up to form a circle. It encouraged people to mingle.

Meanwhile, the associated pool party represented the first time I was visibly my gender fucked self in public. It took all my courage to take off my shirt, but it was so worth it. A feeling of pure liberation.

The Bad

This trip will also be remembered for how anxiety inducing it was.

That started from the flight out to Vegas. My first leg got delayed by an hour, meaning I’d land two minutes before the boarding of the second half. Only this was Chicago O’Hare, which is huge, and the second leg left from a separate terminal. I really didn’t want to be stuck at the airport overnight, which is what would have happened if I missed this flight.

So when my plane landed in Chicago, I ran like hell. I still don’t know how, but I made it. I got on the plane OK, landed in Vegas, and got to my hotel. After an hour in line waiting to check in, I finally made it to my room. It was 2AM early Friday.

I woke up the following morning and headed to the conference. Within minutes of arriving, work started to text me about a systems issue they were having. Being a long walk away from my hotel room and the laptop it contained, I couldn’t do anything about it except diagnose it over text. I was told to work on it after I got back at night, but it was stressful nonetheless. That interaction with work exhausted all my funds with my cellphone carrier and put a weight on my mind that really impinged my capacity to enjoy this first day of my vacation.

But really, that was small fish. Because on the morning of the next day, I lost my wallet. Or it was stolen. Still not sure what happened, though I know precisely where and when it occured.

Can’t say Lost and Found and security were much help here. Lost and Found was closed until the day after I left town. Security and everyone else I encountered staff wise were entirely apathetic.

That wallet had my room key, my debit/credit cards, cash, my drivers license, my health card, my bus pass among others. I had no access to funds except about five bucks in change, this in a town where a cup of coffee was $4.

After getting over the initial anxiety, I resolved that this didn’t have to be a big deal. I could still attend the conference all the same. I wasn’t going to use my ID in Vegas as I still had my passport. It was only my lack of funds that were a problem for food and as an emergency taxi ride if my airport shuttle didn’t show up.

I really only had to last until the evening of the next day, and then I’d be on a plane ride home anyways. Not bad. I could do this.

I used my passport to get another room key. Then once in my room I filled up my phone with money, before putting a hold on my credit card.

Getting the phone number for my credit card company was an anxiety inducing in its own right. My hotel’s Internet was very unreliable; it would cut out every thirty seconds for minutes at a time. I couldn’t use Google. I ended up remembering that I had called the credit card company to warn them of my travel plans, so the number was still in my phone’s history. Problem solved.

I checked the last transactions with the bank while on the phone, and it had not been used fraudulently. Awesome. I called my dad and got him to give me a lift home from the airport given that I no longer had my bus pass. Okay, I was now sorted to get back home.

My priority then came to ingest enough calories. My friends bought me lunch, which was a huge BBQ bacon cheese burger that must have been at least 2,000 calories. That lasted me the rest of the Saturday.

On Sunday, I stocked up on apples that were being given for free at a booth promoting some university at the conference. I also bought a $1.99 footlong hot dog. And someone gave me a free beer. And I drank the water in my hotel room in copious amounts. I ended up spending $3 on food that day. Not bad.

I enjoyed the remainder of the conference, and then it came time to go home. It was night. All my shuttle had to do now was to show up. I had called it the day before to schedule a pick up. I was really uncomfortable with not having cash as a backup in case it didn’t show up, but that was paranoid, right?

Apparently not. My shuttle never showed up. The one scheduled before it did, but they wouldn’t let me on early. I had to wait they told me. I wasn’t alone – there was another lady with me. Thirty minutes after the shuttle was supposed show up, we called up its company. We were told it had already come by, which was entirely untrue.

I started to panic. A shuttle from a different company then came. I got the lady to agree to pay my fare to the airport. By this point, it was an hour after the scheduled pick up. Meanwhile, another bus showed up – from “our” shuttle company. It wasn’t to pick up though, but to drop off.

Nevertheless, the driver heard our plight and generously drove us to the airport, even though it really wasn’t his job to do so.

I arrived at the terminal way later than scheduled, but I was still good. Almost home. While in security, I started chatting up with this Canadian R&D architect that worked in New York. He had also gone to the conference.

We kept talking at the gate. Then it was time to board. I was finally on my way home. After all of this, it was soon going to be over.

But the plane never left. First, it was announced that there was a mechanical issue. Finally, it was said that this couldn’t be fixed and we had to get off.

I nearly broke down. I had no money for a cab ride, no money for a room for the night, no nothing. I had no money for food if this got delayed to the next day.

I sat down with the other Canadian and shot the shit at the gate. He bought me water and some snacks for us. Another plane was called in for us. By 3AM we were on another flight. Before getting on, he lent me a $50 bill.

Things started to turn around.

This delay meant I had missed my connection. That said, I was able to get on another flight, which would only make me seven hours behind schedule. Good news, all told.

I landed in Newark and bought my first real meal in two days with the money I was passed.

It’s hard to express how wonderful it tasted.

When the announcement came stating that my plane for the final leg home was “broken” and that they weren’t sure if they could get another one in, I was okay. Oh yes, you read that right: both planes on both legs of my journey had endured mechanical failures. But I had $40 left for food, and I could hold out comfortably.

In the end, they did find a replacement plane, and I ended up home only eight hours after initially planned. My dad picked me up and brought me home to my best friend, who had made a wonderful comfort dinner. Both gave me nice hugs.

The Good

People were really nice to me.

From the lady who would have paid my shuttle fare, to the shuttle driver who took us to the airport, to my best friend who put extra money on my phone and was always there for me, to my dad’s moral support and pick up once home, to the friend who bought my meal that day, to another friend I made at the con who would have been there had I been unable to make the shuttle, to the awesome expat.

Most of these people were strangers before this weekend, but without them, this would have been so much worse. I am so thankful for their help.

I’m grateful it wasn’t worse: I still had my passport. Had that gone too, resolving matters would have been far more complicated.

I’m also thankful to George, who was a good companion at Newark. Not much of a talker, but a good people watcher.

I’ve just come back from a week-long escape to Cuba. I decided that I would do this two weeks ago, and organized it all the Monday before my departure.

The trip was a success. I read an entire book – the Pulitzer-winning The Forever War by Dexter Filkins – and got a head start on The Fate of Africa by Martin Meredith. I wrote, start-to-finish, the draft for my second book. Every day, I went to bed early, woke up late, ate well, swam, read and wrote. There was no computer screen, no work emergency to concern myself with. It was absolutely fantastic.

I have never had vacation time before that wasn’t a rush to complete objectives – either by juggling family around Christmas or speed-running through cities on travels abroad. To just have all the time in the world was such a wonderful feeling.

Jay couldn’t come this time round due to school constraints, but we’ve resolved that we’ll go off together once he graduates. I very much look forward to that.

What a great trip. Arrived in London from South Africa early on a Monday. I dropped off my bag at the hostel and started to explore. Bored after my first day, I asked my sister where I should go. She recommended Brighton. So off I went the following day. Arriving, I didn’t expect much. Brighton was in my mind this blue-collar town. Nope – I soon found myself in a sea of people, all going about their daily life in this most vibrant of shopping districts. And there was the sea. A beautiful long rocky beach nearby.

From there I went up north near Liverpool, where my sister lives. I stayed with her family for a few days, and had a great time. It was the first opportunity since I was seven years old that I was able to be around her, alone, for more than an hour. She had moved out of the house when I was 7, and a country’s span away when I was 10. Every time I would see her thereafter was a family excursion, and so we never had alone time.  When I got older and she moved to England, I wasn’t able to afford to go alone. So on this time, where it was finally just us, we were able to connect in a way that I hadn’t been able to do at all in my life.

I left Liverpool and stopped by a small town, where I met a wonderful couple I’ve known for a decade now through this warez bulletin board I was part of when I was a teen. We chatted and drank, and they made a wonderful wonderful meal. I ended up crashing on their couch. I left the following morning for York. Explored there for a day. Finally I took the train back to London where I left to go home.

There was a small niggle on the way back – American security made me miss my connection, so I had to spend the night at a hotel in Washington, DC. They only had one flight a day to Ottawa. That bit was rather frustrating. But it doesn’t overshadow the rest of this superb adventure.