Pemberton, BC to Montreal, QC

Grenfell, Saskatchewan

The drive back East was sticky. With no air conditioning, we developed a sunroof and left-side back window aeration system, which left us saying things like "What did you say?" "Come again?" "Co?" (That's Czech for "What"). Up and through the Rockies, we catapulted into Alberta and then drove for endless hours in the flat, hot sun of the prairies. We hit Swift Current, Saskatchewan, on evening two. A campground had been erected on a grassy bank not far from the highway, and we drove in after dark, a group of Latinos sitting, chatty but watchful, outside the laundry room. We put up our tiny tent, and then fed quarters into the hot showers, the water metering out fairly over our burnt skin in 25 cent increments. Then we went into town for food.

"Where do you guys go to eat?" I asked two girls my age who were licking soft serve outside the dairy bar. We'd driven around for a hunger-stricken 30 minutes, past the vacant store fronts and neatly kept downtown. All we'd seen was a restaurant advertising "Chinese and Canadian Cuisine" void of customers. "Oh," said the girls, friendly enough. "Yeah, the downtown doesn't have much. You have to go to the service road. They have McDonalds and Taco Time and stuff." They gave us directions, and we were on our way. In a deep, late August night with few stars, the Swift Current service road was like entering a neon tunnel. Petro Can Signs glared, next to Tim Hortons' red and brown lights and Taco Time's jazzy green. Sweeping headlights cut through the asphalted black like bursts from Mars. We went to Taco Time for our microwaved dinner, and sat shivering in the air-conditioning, amid the palm trees and orange stucco.

Qu'Appelle, Saskatchewan

The trip continued. From grassy, Saskatchewan towns baked by sun, we hit Winnipeg, with its tree lined streets and aging cement apartments and were met by friends. The next day was my birthday, and after bidding my friend Suzy goodbye, we maneuvered our overstuffed car to the bookshop in a shopping plaza. It was nine in the morning in Winnipeg, and the plaza, complete with brown tiles and tiny food court was overrun by the elderly. Drinking coffee, sitting on benches, shopping at Zellers; we had found Winnipeg's epicenter of old people. The only shop with clothing was Zellers, a Canadian K-Mart, and I tried on a few back-to-school specials that Michal bought for me. We threw them in the car and got out of town.

Then the long Ontario leg began, another three solid days of northern Pines, big lake views, poor nutrition and dodgy camping. We were still sticking to the seats but not as much, the lull of the drive had made us almost mute. We put on music and watched the scenery go by. After a few good luck campsites, privately run but near real bodies of water, with birds and breeze, we landed in Montreal.

Pemberton BC, to Montreal, QC: Seven days.