The allure of the road trip is often irresistible. How many novels or movies have we seen where the freedom of the open road calls us to action ? We vicariously experience the exhilleration of heroes who rode motorcycles or cars on long, uncluttered highways with no impediments or restrictions. Wind in the hair, wayfarers on, tunes on the radio, Route 66, Easy Rider, Steppenwolf … ah, life !!
On our first day of this road trip, we left early on an optimistic morning. The sun was shining, the weather moderate, our car stocked and ready for flight. We decided on an early familiar route through the lovely farmland and forest of Durham Region. It was a road I had travelled so many times before, on sunny mornings such as this, during my career. I knew it like the back of my hand. I was ready, a little trip down memory lane, and a gateway to our great new adventure.
And then …. gridlock. Construction down Lakeridge Road brought us to a standstill. Seconds became minutes …. frustration levels rose to vaguely remembered heights. We crawled for an eternity just to get to the 401. I thought this was not what Jack Kerouac wrote about, not what Peter Fonda felt like on his bike, nothing like the Steppenwolf song. We sat …. and waited … we drummed fingers on our dashboard. Oh, it was horrible.
After almost two hours out of Newmarket, we finally made the 401 and …. freedom ! The road opened to us, took us in. Traffic melted away and we gained speed. At last ! The road trip was launched !
Until my back started to spasm. Damn ! What caused this ? I think I looked back in my rear-view mirror. That's what did it ! Never check your rear-view mirror on a road trip ! What good comes from this ?
Thanks to our GPS, we were able to escape the never-ending madness of Montreal road construction. We headed across the wide magnificence of the St. Lawrence River to the south shore and then sprinted east. We actually made up time ! The weather closed in and we drove through depressing grey drizzle interrupted by splashes of brilliant sunshine and even a couple of rainbows. Our spirits picked up. Around Quebec City, the vista to our left cleared to reveal an ancient land. The mighty river glistened like a vital artery: low, rounded mountains to the north and south, once as mighty as Everest, now reduced to geologic old age. And rich farms, rolling in long, narrow patches of green and gold, reminders of centuries-old seigneuries, reaching from the safety and commerce of the river into the dangerous and uncertain hinterland, the domain of the Mohawk and Montaignais. I marveled at the numerous canoe-rivers that took brave men weeks to travel while we sped by on asphalt rivers at more than 100 kph. This is truly the old beating heart of Canada.
We found our hotel in Montmagny ahead of schedule. A restful afternoon, some pizza and beer for supper, conversation about the upcoming weather waiting for us perhaps in Halifax … and then, tomorrow's road.
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