LAST summer in Canada, I met up with Cheryn, my fellow intrepid traveller, and we set off on our long awaited adventure — to drive the mammoth 4500 kms road-trip from Toronto to Vancouver in her 10-year-old Mustang convertible.

Armed with a fistful of road maps and a box of muesli bars we pointed the Mustang west and set off early in the morning.
First stop was Parry Sound — a popular summer cottage spot on Georgian Bay. In the morning, from the fire-tower, we could see some of the thousands of islands, their rocky shorelines and twisted trees fading in and out of the mist.

Wary of hungry bears, we had a hasty picnic in Killarney Provincial Park and headed off for Sault St Marie . It was late when we reached “The Soo” so we dumped our bags at the gothic Algonquin Hotel and made for the nearest bar where we ate and drank to excess while we “bonded” with the local baseball team.

Next morning, we had a huge Canadian breakfast at a cafe in town called Muio’s where all the decor, including the waitresses, appeared to be unchanged from the 1950s.

Sitting directly between Lake Superior and Lake Huron, Sault St Marie is made up of enormous locks and we let our breakfast settle while watching the ships, before we got on our way.

It was a clear, sunny day as we made our way along the road carved out between pink and orange rock heading into the “Canadian Shield”. As the road wound and dipped, stunted fir trees gripped desperately to rocky outcrops and Lake Superior sparkled deep green below.

As we passed trucks with gun-racks and hunting gear I became concerned. We were in the third day of our journey and still no wildlife around. Had they all been shot? Then, turning to dig out some snacks from the back seat, I saw a moose amble out onto the road behind us. I alerted the driver and she braked hard and reversed like a maniac back to the alarmed moose. Luckily for him, he escaped before we reached him.

We headed on towards Terrace Bay and as the day grew warmer, decided to drive Thelma and Louise style and put the roof down. Terrace Bay had a beautiful view of Lake Superior and the nearby Slate Islands and I planned to take a boat tour out to the islands where the famous woodland caribou live.

We stayed at the Terrace Bay Motel which had the only bar in town. With a row of trucks with gun-racks parked in front of it, conversations stopped as we walked into the bar and a large family of deer glared down at us from the wall. Someone had thoughtfully provided each one with a straw hat and we wished that we had such a disguise as we crouched over our beers very, very quietly.

The next day Jorge, a local, took us out to the islands. He was a very quiet albino guy with one tooth who drove his boat extremely fast. Strangely enough, we didn’t see any caribou — perhaps, I suggested, they were warned off by the deafening roar of Jorge’s boat.

Back on mainland we headed west and as the day grew unbearably hot, we watched our picnic dissolve into the upholstery.
We pulled into an ugly, smelly town called Dryden for the night and spent as little time there as possible. The next day we were up and on the road in record time. We stopped for breakfast at nearby Kenora which was an oasis in comparison with Dryden. This was “The Lake of the Woods” country and was incredibly beautiful with tiny islands and lakes mingled in a sparkling green labyrinth.

Soon after lunch we crossed the border into Manitoba and at last the gentle rolling hills of the prairies stretched out ahead of us. We reached Brandon and spent the night with friends. It had been a record-breaking summer day and we were both fried to a crisp but were able to forget our sunburn as we sat on their balcony and watched the day fade into a pink prairie sunset.

Saskatoon was our next destination as we sliced right through the heart of golden prairie country. Pretty Russian churches dotted the landscape and we chose one with plenty of shade to stop for a picnic lunch, watched by peering neighbors and a police car which cruised by. The poor mustang was not enjoying the heat and threatened to overheat. By late afternoon we finally reached Saskatoon, complete with matching headaches, and our iritability was further provoked by an over-priced youth hostel. We ate dinner and explored Saskatoon which was a graceful, university town with a river winding through. The next day, off again, to visit Wanuskewin Heritage Park. The park covered 100 hectares and overlooked the beautiful Opamihaw Valley, which felt the most tranquil place on earth.

From Saskatoon we headed for Edmonton, home of the world’s largest shopping mall. As we crossed the border into Alberta and approached Edmonton it started to snow — proof that the weather in this vast country changed as often as the scenery.

The mall really was quite impressive — along with other monstrosities, it housed a submarine ride complete with pirate’s treasure. We escaped from mall hell and headed for the Rockies and as the mountains loomed closer, the weather started to set in.

Once in Jasper National Park, the wildlife we had once thought was on the wrong end of a hunter’s rifle, came out to do their evening show. We saw half a dozen elk grazing by the road, a black bear, chipmunks, and a couple of mountain sheep. It was incredibly exciting and within 15 minutes I’d used all my film.

We cruised the streets of Jasper trying to find somewhere affordable to stay where there was running water — not an easy task. We eventually discovered a “tourist home” that looked interesting and was affordable. It was ‘70s style with a large orange and brown bathroom and a completely crazy landlord.

With hiking information in hand, we headed down to Maligne Lake. Our hike, labelled “rewarding”, was just short of a vertical climb. Along the road towards Banff, we saw more black bears as well as mountain goats way up high on the sheer mountain sides.

We headed straight to Lake Louise which was an absolutely breathtaking place. True to the postcards, the lake really was turquoise, while the mountains rose up steeply on either side and the back-drop to all of this was a glacier, glowing ice-blue, which spilled over facing the lake.

The road to British Columbia took us through the very hairy Kicking Horse Pass. The scenery was awesome and our necks became stiff from craning to admire the mountain peaks and glaciers, illuminated by shafts of golden light from the sun.

We passed through Yoho, Glacier and Revelstoke National Parks — all dramatic, but by 11pm had left the mountains behind us and pulled into Salmon Arm (quickly renamed Salmon Armpit).

Driving across B.C. the next day, the land was dry and featureless until we hit Kamloops, where it became hilly again before the arid cowboy hills of historic gold mining territory around Cache Creek and Lillouet.

As we got closer to Vancouver, the scenery changed again, and we were back among stunning mountain ranges. About an hour from Vancouver, Howe Sound appeared to the right which the road wound its way along for most of the trip until the Pacific Ocean.

We arrived in Vancouver - the end of our journey. We spent a few days exploring the city then reluctantly returned to jobs and stability to finance another trip.

The strongest memory I had of our drive was the simple feeling of complete freedom we had each morning as we faced the open road and the unexpected wonders that lay ahead.