road to starrdom

I had a mission last spring: pack my worldly possessions into a car and drive across the country, from Vancouver to Toronto, all by my lonesome. Along the way, I hoped to gain a better understanding of this vast, rugged nation.

Going for Gold(en)

May 5, 2009

Leaving Vancouver was probably one of the toughest things I’ve ever done.

It didn’t help that just before I took off I convinced myself I’d contracted swine flu. All the symptoms were there: sore throat, headache, fever, chills.

Any other time I would have chalked it up to my being run-down and stressed out. I would have popped a couple of Tylenol and sucked it up.

But the never-ending cable news obsession with everything swine flu was messing with my head. (A consequence of my never-ending obsession with cable news.)

Turns out I don’t have swine flu. I never actually proved this or had it confirmed by an expert, but I figure I’m not dead yet, so I probably don’t need to worry.

Regardless, my big trip has gone ahead as planned. And I’m sure the open road will do my body and head some good.

I’m driving across Canada, from Vancouver back to my hometown of Toronto, where I hope to find rosier job prospects, given it’s our nation’s media capital.

I’ve packed my worldly possessions into my 2008 Honda Civic, which I’ve given the name ‘Sexymoto,’ a nod to her Japanese roots.

Spring has sprung in British Columbia, and the beauty of this province in full bloom is quite humbling.

Sexymoto and I made our way into the B.C. Interior this past weekend, the beginning of my farewell tour of the province.

Each time I spot a lovely sight (most everywhere), I sigh wistfully and then try and take a picture with my camera mounted on the steering wheel. I’ve only swerved into oncoming traffic once and onto the soft shoulder twice. I also stop the car at times.

Looking around, I’ve found myself wondering why I’m leaving B.C. for Ontario. Don’t get me wrong, Ontario is beautiful, too, in its own special way. It just can’t compete at B.C.’s level. Mountains trump everything, except maybe fjords and volcanoes.

It’s a great time to make this trip. B.C.’s roads aren’t nearly as deadly when they’re not covered in snow. And the gravel and sand mix used to provide traction in winter no longer covers the highways, which is good news for Sexymoto’s “galaxy grey” paint job.

Of course, I’ve still had to contend with the usual parade of a-holes from Alberta, in their doubled-up-rear-tire pick-ups, trying to run me off the road.

After a brief overnight in the Shuswap region, Sexymoto and I arrived in the town of Golden, my old stomping ground.

I moved out there in 2005 and worked for the next year-and-a-half as editor of the local newspaper, The Golden Star.

People found it quite amusing that I was “Ryan Starr from the Golden Star.” And I’d always have to pretend they were the first to make that connection. “Yeah,” I’d say, barely masking my boredom, “what are the chances, eh?”

Golden’s a small town, population 3,800ish, and likely to shrink more if its two main industries – Canadian Pacific Railway and an engineered-lumber factory, Lousiana-Pacific – continue to cut back on shifts and lay-off employees.

It’s not like Golden’s ever going to turn into a ghost town, though. The true locals grew up here or have lived here forever and will remain regardless. It’s home, after all.

Also, when winter rolls around, Golden is overrun with ski bums and boarders looking to carve up Kicking Horse Mountain Resort’s abundance of champagne powder (and to clear out the town’s food bank while they spend their EI cheques at the pub.)

Likewise, in the summer, the whitewater rafting crowds descend upon Golden to take advantage of the two large rushing rivers that run through it – the Kicking Horse and the mighty Columbia.

Still, not much changes in G-town – part of its charm and, some might say, its problem. But I made a few good friends there, and I wanted to bid them adieu, for now.

Next up, Jasper National Park.

Distance covered (Vancouver to Golden): 713 km
_____________________________________

Iceway is the nice way

May 6, 2009

Get behind the wheel for the ride from Banff to Jasper up the long and winding Icefields Parkway.

Camera work’s a tad shaky, but that’s what you get when you tape while trying to negotiate the road at 116 km/hr.

_____________________________________

Loose in the Moose

May 8, 2009

As I rolled into Moose Jaw, Sask. last night, I noticed this disturbing story on the front page of Saskatchewan’s major daily, the Leader-Post.

April Dawn Halkett, 22, is on trial, accused of abandoning her newborn in the toilet of a Prince Albert Walmart. How perfectly redneck.

Incredibly, Halkett told the court she didn’t know she was pregnant until she gave birth. OK, I’m not a woman, but is this possible? According to the testimony of a medical expert, it happens to one in every 2,500 women. The mind races.

Regardless, once Halkett had what she must have thought was an immaculate conception – technically described as a “precipitous birth,” because it took just minutes to deliver – she left her baby boy head down in the toilet.

She said the newborn was blue and not moving and she thought it was dead.

Oh well, you might as well just leave the thing in the toilet then, no point trying to save it. Just squeeze out the puppy, then go sift through the bargain bins.

Her lawyer’s comment: “When the baby came out it was clear to her it was dead … that’s a normal reaction of a (then) 20-year-old.”

Miraculously, the baby survived.

Update (Aug. 23): Mother who left newborn in Wal-Mart toilet not guilty

•••

Meanwhile, the road trip continues.

As I sit here in my room at the Super 8 Motel in the middle of Saskatchewan, it occurs to me that I’m only halfway home.

That’s overwhelming, given that I’ve already clocked close to 2,500 km since leaving Vancouver last weekend. Only by driving across Canada can one truly grasp the sheer vastness of this country.

Jazzed about Jasper

To recap the last few days: I left B.C. and headed north to Jasper, the largest national park in the Canadian Rockies (at 10,878 sq. km). It is a truly stunning display of natural beauty.

The glaciers of the Columbia Icefield – which line the parkway on the way up to Jasper – are awe inspiring and there is an abundance of lakes, waterfalls, mountains and wildlife in the park.

>> Check out this footage I shot of actual animals grazing by the roadside in Jasper, despite the traffic:

Incidentally, I used to have a golden retriever named Jasper. Once at a high school house party we put a bowling shirt on him and laughed as he ran around, him lapping up all the attention and us cheering. To me and my drunk friends it was all really funny – a dog, in a shirt! – until Jasper peed all over the floor and we had to clean it up.

You want a what?

After Jasper it was on to the oil and cattle town of Red Deer to crash for the night.

First, though, I headed to a local bar to catch the Penguins-Capitals playoff game. For dinner, I thought I’d make up for the lack of greens I’ve been consuming on the road. It’s hard to get much that’s healthful at the drive-thru.

Grabbing a seat at the bar, I ordered a salad with cranberries and sunflower seeds. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Alberta, but them tough boys don’t take too kindly to some “big city guy” coming ’round – wearing flip-flops no less – and ordering sissy food like that.

When the salad was plunked down in front of me, I swore I could hear the sound of chairs turning in my direction. Soon I began getting what I felt were dirty looks from some of the true-blues in attendance – when they weren’t eating ribs or sipping on Miller Genuine Drafts after a hard day’s work.

To (over) compensate, I began acting extra manly. I grunted and banged on the bar in response to the hockey on TV. I’d take big sips of my pint and rub my beard with vigor. I was trying to show Red Deer: “Hey, I’m manly and I can eat a salad.”

I don’t think I convinced them. So I flip-flopped out of there.

Land of the dinosaurs

The next day it was off to Drumheller, land of the dinosaurs, located in the ominous-sounding Badlands region of Alberta.

The town is located near where some of the richest deposits of fossils and dinosaur bones in North America were uncovered, including the Albertosaurus – meaning “Alberta lizard” – a smaller version of the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Speaking of which, Drumheller is also home to the world’s largest fake dinosaur – a 26.2 metre-high fiberglass T-Rex.

It might have something else to offer, but from what I could tell, Drumheller is all about the dinosaurs. From local moteliers and shop owners to even an accountant – everyone uses the dinos as a marketing gimmick.

You can’t look in any direction without seeing a fake T-Rex or a Stegosaurus attached to some sort of ad or promotion. “A dino of a deal!”

The overall effect is kitschy, but it’s also charming in a Disney kind of way.

Head east, young man

After Drumheller it was down to the Trans-Canada Highway to begin the long drive east to Toronto.

Interesting to note the changes in roadside scenery, other than the obvious.

In Alberta and Saskatchewan, for example, I’ve seen countless oil pumpjacks dotting the plains. Also spotted buffalo and many a bunny rabbit – usually dead on the side of the road. Still, nice to mix it up a bit from skunks and squirrels.

I was forewarned by many who’ve gone this route that the Prairies are flat (obviously) and boring. A friend of mine quipped that this is the place where you can watch your dog run away for days.

It’s been suggested that for this portion of the journey I nip down to the U.S. where the drive is supposedly more interesting.

But this is my country, and, boring or not, I want to see it all.

While there is a definite temptation to put the pedal to the metal and blast through this stretch – soooo much distance to cover – I’d really like to prove there are some things of interest and redeeming value here in the Prairies.

I might head off on some backroads in the hopes of seeing how the “real people” live. Or at least to get a break from crazy highway driving.

Some tidbits from stops along the way:

Medicine Hat, Alta.: What the hell is a medicine hat anyway, I wondered. Wikipedia says the name stems from the English translation of ‘Saamis’ (SA-MUS) – the Blackfoot word for the eagle tail feather headdress worn by medicine men, or ‘Medicine Hat’.

Swift Current, Sask.: The birthplace of Medicare. Once an experiment in government-run health care, now the reason our nation’s ERs are crowded with idiots battling the common cold but wanting to see a doctor to be sure they’re not dying.

Next up: Manitoba

Distance covered (Golden to Moose Jaw): 1,747 km

_____________________________________

Out of the great wide open

May 10, 2009

Crossing over the Manitoba-Ontario border last night was intense.

After 3,500 km on the road, I am finally back in my home province. (Watch this video of my exciting arrival.)

Not that I’m anywhere close to my end destination, Toronto. The city of Kenora, where I stopped for the evening, is still 1,800 km from T.O.

Ontario is massive and I’ve only just come to realize it.

It was a rather symbolic moment, the border crossing.

Rain and grey skies had been dogging me for most of my time in the Prairies. So when the sun came out as I passed the Ontario sign yesterday, bathing the whole scene in lovely late-day light, I took at as a good omen. Carry on, it seemed to say, all is well ahead.

It feels like forever since I left Vancouver. In both appearance (scruffy) and demeanour (slightly mad), I’m beginning to bear a faint resemblance to Tom Hanks in Castaway, the movie in which he’s stranded on that island with only a volleyball for company. Except in my case the volleyball is an iPod.

Why the epic journey? After four and a half years living and working in British Columbia – and having been laid off from my newspaper job last December – I’m driving back across the country to Toronto, my hometown, where I hope to find a writing/reporting job.

But first I had to get through the Prairies.

Regina, or, what’s in a name

About an hour east of Moose Jaw – where I filed my last dispatch – sits Saskatchewan’s capital, Regina.

Given its setting on a flat, treeless plain, you can see the city from at least 20 km outside of town. That’s pretty cool.

If we’re all being honest, though, we’ll admit that Regina is a terrible name for a city. When Regina residents (Reginas?) travel somewhere, and they’re asked where they’re from, and they respond with ‘Regina’, how often do you think they’re met with a confused look – as in, ‘I beg your pardon?’

I think it’s an unfortunate handle, unless you appreciate Latin. But even then.

That aside, I still wasn’t all that impressed with Regina. It felt like the kind of place where having a meth addiction is entirely acceptable, understood and probably encouraged.

To be fair, it didn’t help that it was two degrees celsius and snowing – on May 8. It would appear I left spring behind in B.C.

Putting on my coat and braving the frigid (May!) temperatures, I did my best to have a look around the Queen City. There were some nice Victorian buildings scattered throughout town. Not surprising I guess, considering the city is named for her.

You dirty girl

While in Regina, I noticed that Sexymoto, my Honda Civic, was looking a bit worse for all the highway wear and tear. So we hit the first car wash I spotted on my way in.

I asked the attendant on duty, a hulking old dude dressed in coveralls, if the car wash was touchless (popular in B.C.; never cleans the car adequately) or if it was one of the ones with those brush things that spin around.

The old boy just stared at me. He looked irritated. “It’s a car wash,” he said.

Turns out it was one of those ones with the brush things, and it did a fine job.

With that, a shiny, made-over Sexymoto and I headed for the final prairie province, Manitoba.

‘Hot’ tubbing in Brandon

I didn’t have the wherewithal to make it all the way to Winnipeg that night and opted instead for Brandon, the province’s second largest city.

No sightseeing here though. My legs and back were feeling half dead from all the driving.

Shortly after checking in I decided to have dip in my hotel’s “hot” tub. Big mistake. (Isn’t it always, though? When is using a public hot tub ever a good idea?) I felt disgusting the minute I dipped my leg into that murky lukewarm water. Maybe the jets are powerful, I told myself. They weren’t. I didn’t stay long.

Leaving the pool area, I passed the front desk. The clerk, a young girl with a nose piercing, called out to me: “You went in the hot tub?” she asked. “Yeah,” I replied, sheepishly. She raised her eyebrows and looked down at the desk. “Eww.”

Rain on my parade

The next morning, charcoal clouds hung over Brandon. Ever since I hit Saskatchewan, the dreary prairie weather has helped keep pushing me eastward, partly in hopes of finding the sun. It’s a minor disappointment. I had envisioned this part of the country being all vast expanses of golden wheat and jet-black soil set against a big brilliant blue sky.

But it’s too early in the season. The fields are just recovering from winter.

To compensate, I became obsessed with grain elevators – the one part of my prairie vision I could fulfill.

Well aware of the Prairies’ reputation for being boring and endless, I also tried to turn down backroads and visit dots on the map in the hopes of seeing more than the oncoming traffic along the Trans-Canada Highway.

Highlights included Esterhazy, Sask., home to the Potash Interpretive Centre (as in, ‘What is this potash trying to tell us’… ?). And there was the time I was almost knocked into an irrigation ditch by a dump truck driver not happy with my decision to stop at the side of the road to take pictures. My B.C. plates – with their ‘Vancouver Honda’ plastic frames – likely didn’t earn me any favour.

Getting off the main road gave me a different perspective. But it’s hard to avoid the truth: the Prairies might not be boring, though they’re certainly endless.

The Peg preserves

The old ads 'add' character.

Arriving in Winnipeg later that day, I wondered if it wouldn’t be a slightly larger version of Regina.

It wasn’t. I was particularly intrigued that The Peg has preserved a great number of the older buildings in its downtown core, as well as many of the original painted advertisements on their facades.

Winnipeg has a rich history, and this adds a really nice touch of character to the modern city. To me, it also served as a reminder of how Toronto has torn down a lot of its old gems over the years to clear the way for cookie-cutter glass condos and the like.

I spent a bit of time wandering around downtown Winnipeg. Then I got nervous about Sexymoto being left all alone in an unfamiliar city, especially now that she was sparkling. I grabbed a sandwich and we headed for Ontario.

Nearly there, sort of

An hour or so out of Winnipeg, the Prairies began to morph into the Canadian Shield.

I first noticed tiny boulders mixed into the grass along the roadside. Before long, the coniferous trees were in abundance and the Trans-Canada Highway was lined by rocky outcroppings.

It was starting to look like familiar ground to me.

***

Next up: Northern Ontario and the home stretch.

Distance covered (Moose Jaw to Kenora): 860 km

_____________________________________

Homeward bound

May 14, 2009

It was sad to see the Vancouver Canucks eliminated from the Stanley Cup playoffs by the Chicago Blackhawks the other night.

Now I’m a Toronto Maple Leafs fan (yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before…). But having lived in Vancouver up until only a few weeks ago, I, like many other Canadians, was rooting for the ‘Nucks to become the first team since the 1993 Montreal Canadiens to bring Lord Stanley’s mug north of the border.

At the same time, I was dreading the prospect of Vancouver winning the whole thing, which they had been touted to do given their exceptional performance in the second half of the season.

Why? Because I would have felt like a complete idiot for having moved back to Toronto – the Leafs golf in the spring, they don’t play hockey – just as Vancouver was getting closer to capturing the Holy Grail.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted the Canucks to do well, I just didn’t want to miss the big party out west. So I felt some relief watching Vancouver get knocked out Monday as I relaxed in my Sault Ste Marie, Ont. hotel.

I stopped in the Sault on the final night of a 10-day road trip across Canada, from Vancouver to my hometown, Toronto, where I’m returning in the hopes of finding a writing/reporting job.

Roadside attractions

The morning after the big loss, I set a course for the mining town of Sudbury, home to the Big Nickel, a 30-foot-high replica of a 1951 Canadian five cent piece, complete with the visage of King George.

As far as kitschy northern Ontario attractions go, the nickel was rivaled only by the enormous Canada Goose in Wawa – a monument to the town’s name, which means ‘wild goose’ in Ojibway.

These attractions aren’t exactly the Eiffel Tower and Sphynx. Still, they’re better than hay bales and yellow lines.

But I was getting closer to my end destination of Toronto, so it was becoming harder to linger at any of these stops for too long. Like a horse heading into the home stretch, I could smell the barn, as they say. So I hurtled down Highway 400 and hit Hogtown by early evening.

Driven to fly

My excellent adventure was at long last complete.

Frankly, while I had a blast, I’d be perfectly happy never to do that much driving (5,400 km) again. The experience has taught me to appreciate air travel. Flying might not be as interesting or as scenic as driving, but it’s far more sensible if you’re covering insane distances like these.

Makes me think of comedian Louis CK, who jokes in his routine that it used to take “30 years” to cross the continent in the pioneer age. Now, on airplanes, he says, “you just watch a movie, take a dump and you’re home.”

My trip was never about speed and convenience, though. It was really all about the journey, as cliched as that sounds.

I had a mission: pack my worldly possessions into my car and drive across the country, all by my lonesome. While doing so, I hoped to gain a better understanding of this vast, rugged and, well, empty country of mine. In my view, this could only be done properly by hitting the road.

I certainly saw a lot out there. From the mountains and natural grandeur of Western Canada, through the seemingly endless – and rainy and snowy – Prairies and onward to the Canadian Shield, there was plenty of loveliness to soak up.

Greatest of Great Lakes

I filed my last report from Kenora, Ont., a charming town on the Lake of the Woods and the first major stop just over the border with Manitoba.

After that it was on to Thunder Bay. Located at the head of Lake Superior, this city has long served as a vital port for the shipping of grain and other resources from the west through the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence Seaway.

I didn’t find much to get excited about in Thunder Bay. The place seemed downright dreary actually. (I believe the city’s a perennial contender for ‘Suicide Capital of Canada.’) But I didn’t stick around long enough to do get a solid impression, so I won’t dis too hard.

Lake Superior, on the other hand, is a sight to behold. It’s so massive, it’s basically an inland sea. At 82,400 sq. km, it’s the largest freshwater lake in the world by surface area, and the third largest freshwater lake by volume.

For about 700 km from Thunder Bay to Sault Ste. Marie, the Trans-Canada Highway (TCH) winds its way around the north shore of Superior, offering up stunning views of the greatest of Great Lakes.

(Check out this video of the sun setting over Lake Superior.)

Proceed with caution

Driving was a bit of a slower affair in Ontario, mind you, with a 90 km/h speed limit on the TCH, which is one lane each way most of the time. It made me long for Saskatchewan and Alberta and their sensible 110 km/h limits and four-lane divided highways.

Granted, the road in Northern Ontario does have to snake through the hard rock of the Canadian Shield, requiring a bit of caution and extra vigilance from drivers.

On the Prairies, I could probably have fallen asleep behind the wheel for a couple of hours and not ended up in that bad a shape – just crashed into a grain elevator or a cow or something. No biggie.

(Watch this video of what it’s like driving through the Prairies.)

But Northern Ontario roads often meant no reading behind the wheel, flossing or fishing for stuff buried in the back of the car. And it sure was harder to eat up all those kilometres doing under 100 km/h. Despite my heavy foot, I did try my best to obey.

After Sudbury, I began to work my way south. Eventually the highway widened, traffic volume increased and, somewhere south of Barrie, fast-lane drivers began pushing 140 km/h – and God help you if you didn’t want to do the same. (Fortunately, I did.)

Before long, I spotted the Toronto sign at the side of the road. Hard to sum up how this felt. Surreal is probably the best way to describe it. More than 5,000 clicks, five provinces and three time zones later, I was home at last.

What awaits me on the road ahead? I’m not really sure.

But if it’s anything like the one I’ve just been on – winding, wonderful and slightly weird – I’m ready to put the pedal to the metal.

•••

Distance covered (Kenora to Toronto): 1,928 km

Total distance covered (Vancouver to Toronto): 5,400 km

Tanks of gas: 12 (cheapest: Alberta; most expensive: B.C.)

Songs/podcasts listened to: 811 (a ballpark guess.)

Days without vegetables or fruit: 10 (apart from an awkward salad in Red Deer.)

ryan@roadtostarrdom.com