Thursday, December 22, 2011

Flashback Road Trip Part 2: Vancouver to Calgary. My Favourite Colour Moss Green

September 15, 2011
Leaving Kitsilano (, finding the road fresh and eyes tired, I have a CAA map for every province, a ghetto phone with an excellent long distance plan, I don’t own a GPS and I have somewhat of a dusty sense of direction. I know where I am headed, Ontario, I just don’t know the specifics.  I have a Lonely Planet somewhere - good readings for in-the-moment referencing, but between travel, destination and occupation, I will let the road be my guise for now. Haka is my co-pilot, my 2002 black Honda Civic - my warrior for wisdom and medium for scene exploration. 
Lehman (
Sumas (  Names layering geography towns and their peripheral pictures of plump green floors as I remember sermons heard in liquor store aisles as this is the getaway with a south-east bend. The road that travels next to the rolling trees and evergreen hills with peek-a-boo bouquets of coarse red rock make this my scene as I take my time and meander in this sluggish route.  Eventually I will tour off of the TransCan to see a little more of this majestic green. 
Chillowack and emerald stretching farms - Where business grows (; Bridal Veil Falls Provincial Park - another stop in this abundant sprawling paradise.  
Hope ( is misty mountains as the sky sheds atmosphere.  Rain flecks my windshield and I am finally beginning to digest these next few hundred (820) km’s. ( (.......Please don’t rain the whole way........)
Crowsnest Highway(HWY 3), detour through Manning Park (; swirls of green smokescreens weaving olive, apple and harlequin shades of earth mixing into a pallet of tropes emerging into a pleasing cacophony between trees, leaves and bushes grounding life – I have taken this route before, but today it stands alone.  I remember past trips when we toured through the Okanagan and this was the road we camped along, sleeping in its parks as we took our time before the snow fell.  There is always a river to perch over or a wooded path to climb through; though September is usually damp, this is my favourite time to camp and get outside.  Because everyone is gone, back to their hovels and a routine that puts them into a habitual 9-5 which leaves me to soak in these last leaves of solitude before I replace green for white.
From Princeton ( to Kelowna ( the doll-houses align the hills over Lake Okanagan.  This jade-coloured mirror is cold and stoic like the fixed glimpse of a stare as September mid-afternoon rolls in clouds and gloom.   
A few hours ahead, rolling with the escarpment, Shuswap Lake is to my left as I pass through an area of tucked away cabins in a rural seasonal playground for hot summer hay-days East of Salmon Arm (the house-boating capitol of the world:   
Pushing on, the mountains grow thicker and heavier as Revelstoke ( and Rogers Pass ( seep like spilled ink-wells brooding colours of magnificent dark intensities as the dense forest paints depth into a windshield scene.  What a magnificent place to create a story: a locked community subject to the perils of Mother Nature and this feeling of complete isolation as closing walls and extreme bends press with the changing altitudes which organize and categorize themes churning a journey –

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.