Cross Canada, 2016

August 2016, we traversed 10,500 kilometres, 10 provinces, 15 cities, and 5 time zones across Canada. My mom, my best friend, her mom and I rode 26 days in our jeep from the banks of the Pacific Ocean in Vancouver, British Columbia to the cliffside shores of the Atlantic in St.John's, Newfoundland.

Here's our route, for reference:

Entering Alberta via the trans-Canada highway, our first stop was Banff National Park.

As the most popular natural destination in Canada, the park boasts of shredding peaks and pristine lakes. Whereas we found Lake Louise littered with trash and the noise of international tour guides, Banff offers many other lakes that were just as accessible and even more gorgeous.

I've been to Banff a couple times before and felt more enraptured by the brooding blue of Morraine Lake.

We camped almost every other night throughout the trip in Canada's national and provincial park campgrounds and my friend Marina and I were responsible setting up the tent and sleeping bags---that night, however, a storm ravaged over Banff and we woke up with our sleeping bags drenched in water. It turned out that Marina and I'd forgotten to drain the water on our rain cover and the rain had all trickled inside.

It was still pouring in the morning, so we attempted the quickest pack-up possible and ran to the shelter of our jeep, soaked, after which we'd drive 500 km to our next destination.

The funnest part of Alberta, as I remember, was the badlands of Dinosaur Provincial Park. The ragged, unearthly terrain, paired with the scattered bones and fossil specimens, painted an extraterrestrial scene amidst stretches of farmland. Although the park is one of the biggest dinosaur fossil localities in the world--hence the name--I'd say the it was probably home to more mosquitoes. we counted a grand total of 26 bites on my friend, a triumph of the impenetrable cloud of bugs that swarmed around us in the sweltering heat.

We called these farm marshmallows.

Despite the slander for Saskatchewan notorious flatness, It wasn't that boring. Granted, the golden plains got tiresome, but we did see some magnificient storms and thundering cumuli. Justice for Saskatchewan.

This was a good day.

Manitoba, however, was way more riveting.

We'd just driven 750 kilometers and were expecting to arrive at our campsite at Riding Mountain National Park before 8 o'clock---that was when we found a bug in our itinerary- we'd forgotten all about the change in time zone crossing from Saskatchewan to Manitoba. We ended up pulling into the park at 11 o'clock at night.

The GPS guided us off the highway to a winding, bumpy gravel road flanked by dense trees; we found ourselves in complete darkness. Mom decided to follow the car ahead of us for guidance, but it came to a swift stop, and that is when we noticed the large, dark hump next to it. Appalled, we realized that a massive bison had blocked the way of the car.

As we slowly rolled forward, turning off our lights and staying as silent as possible, we saw more bison emerge on either sides of the path. Pairs of ghostly green eyes glowed through the darkness while the faint silhouettes of their monstrious skulls---marked by their slender, curved horns--- materialized only meters away from our car and we found ourselves amidst a herd of bison in the middle of the night.

We watched a small bison venture in front of our car, followed by two enormous shadows. I let out an excited yelp, but mom was so scared she wanted to cover my mouth. Following his family, the bull stopped and stared silently at our car for a solid 5 seconds before brushing past our car.

We didn't dare breathe as we drove past the undulating heaps of fur and vigilant eyes.

We were about to rejoice upon when the lady in the GPS declared that we had "arrived at our destination on the right."

We looked around us and took a shaky breath. Glaring in front of us was a crimson sign that read: Attention, End of Road.

Seeing the dead end, we heard the grinding wheels of the car behind us, turning to leave.

We had no choice. Not seeing any more bison around us, Mom decided to get out of the car to seek help. It was still pitch black outside the car, and she walked as fast and as quietly as she could to communicate our predicament with other driver; he said that they were headed to the same campsite and could take us there.

When asked how he ended up here lost like us, the driver informed us that he had ventured out during the night precisely for the bison. "Aren't they incredible?" He said.

We tried our best to nod and smile with understanding.

The following night we stayed at a fancy hotel in Winnipeg. Excited at our return to civilization, my friend and I were thrilled to try the slides at the hotel pool.

We were splashing around when suddenly we saw a band of girls barge in to the pool from the emergency exit. I ignored them at first, but then the seven girls, no older than thirteen, began shoving me out of the line for the big blue waterslide. The self-righteous child as I was, I went up and told them to stop but I was met with sneers and harsh words; It got worse when they began pulling my hair and pushing me off the slides, injuring my head in the process. It was the first time I heard anyone curse, and the first time those words were aimed at me.

I felt the blood rush into my face and I felt my anger rise. I felt the urge to reciprocate their wrongdoing and get my revenge. My friend was crying behind me, and I had to do something.

It took a couple of seconds for me to regain my reason. Quickly I grabbed a towel and went to go find the hotel manager, as there were no lifeguards or security in sight.

The middle-aged men were sympathetic, but did not offer any means of compensation. They comforted me and promised that they would go find the girls. When we got back to the pool, however, there was nobody there. I was placated by their warm words and pitying smiles and wanted to forget about the ordeal. I thought the problem was solved, I had been a fool not to have seen them exchange knowing glances and make phony calls to the police.

Our trip continued. In ontario I visited skyscrapers and lakes and museums, where I saw dizzying sights and witnessed human artifacts, shells of Ancient Roman clay frozen in time.

In Quebec, I strolled among Victorian streets and enjoyed a juicy, 16-oz slab of steak.

By the time we reached Prince Edward Island I had finished reading a book called Anne of Green Gables. The story took place in an old cottage on Prince Edward Island, where I visited the legendary Green Gables and met its red-headed, high-spirited protagonist.

I pointed out to Anne that her "room" lacked the mahogany wardrobe she loved and her sleeves weren't puffy as she liked it.

From Cavendish we drove to Prince Edward Island, where we stayed at the uppermost room in a lighthouse. I climbed up the stairs to the tower, blinded by the whirring buzz of the glow that illuminated coasts and journeys.

In New Brunswick we visited the Bay of Fundy, I called it the Chocolate Bay.

Our trip ended in St.John's, Newfoundland, the easternmost point of North America, where I found this sign.

Our journey ends here, for now.