7/12/15, “The Return Journey”
Minneapolis – St. Paul International Airport (MSP), Minnesota
“You can evade reality, but you cannot evade the consequences of evading
reality.” For 10 Days, I have evaded
reality. For 10 Days, I have travelled
and journeyed and engaged in quests and adventures, both alone and with my
faithful companion, my mother, as we engaged our on last great summer road trip
adventure. By the numbers, 4000 miles of
driving, 8 states/provinces, 6 NPS units, 5 World Heritage Sites, 2 different
cars, and one trip to remember for the rest of our lives. For all the hardships and adversity, this
trip will go down in the record books as one of the great ones. It was our last great summer road trip
adventure, and it was just as great as any of other ones.
 |
| Old Faithful, Yellowstone NP, Wyoming |
Well, the Grand Canyon trip is and always
will be number one. Nothing can compare
to that, ever. Is this a close
second? I don’t know. There were so many other great summer road
trip adventures we partook in as I was growing up, the Great Lakes, Tennessee
and the surrounding states, New England, and more. What about all the great summer road trip
adventures I did solo or with friends?
Alaska in 2014, Eurotrip in 2013, Missouri and the surrounding states in
2012, Minnesota and the surrounding states in 2013. Is this really up there with them? Absoultely.
Top ten to be sure, maybe even top five. It is not a proper road trip without adversity and car trouble, and this
trip was no exception, but more on that later.
First, my reflections.
 |
| Two Medicine Lake, Glacier NP, Montana |
There is a
line in Lord of the Rings, maybe the greatest line in the whole book. Eomer, a Man, now King of Rohan, is talking
with Gimli, a Dwarf. The Dwarves and the
Elves are traditional enemies, but Gimli forged an alliance between the Elves
and Dwarves based on his friendship with Legolas and his love for the beautiful
Galadriel, who was called the Morning Star.
Aragorn, another friend of Gimli and Legolas, has become King of Gondor,
and he is married to the beautiful half-elven Princess, Arwen Evenstar, who is
now his Queen. Gimli loudly proclaims
that Galadriel is the most beautiful woman in all the land and will fight to
the death anyone who disagrees. Eomer
than says, “Had I seen her in other company, I would have said all that you
could wish. But now I will put Queen
Arwen Evenstar first, and I am ready to do battle on my own part with any who
deny me. Shall I call for my
sword?” At that point, Gimli bows low to
Eomer and says, “Nay, you are excused for my part, lord. You have chosen the Evening, but my love is
given to the Morning.”
 |
| Upper Waterton Lake, Waterton-Glacier IPP, Alberta |
There is just so
much meaning and depth to that exchange, and it should be one that anyone can
relate to. My mother and I had almost
the exact same conversation at the end of our trip. I was praising the beauty of the mountains,
but she was having none of it. My mother
might as well have said, “Had I seen the mountains on another trip, I would
have said all you could wish. But now I
will put the lakes first.” I all but
replied, “You have chosen the lakes, but my love is given to the
mountain.” The Canadian Rockies (and the
Northern Rockies of the United States and the range in Alaska and the Yukon,
since it’s all part of the same), is the most beautiful region in the world in
my book. The Caribbean has nothing on
it. While the lakes were wonderful, it
was the mountains that took my breath away.
 |
| Lake Louise, Banff NP, Alberta |
My mother I did not even come close to coming to sword and axe over
that, even if we did over other things, since we both allowed for the beauty of
each other’s favorite feature. However,
this was not the most magical part of the trip.
No, that honor belongs to Dinosaur Provincial Park, Jurassic Park: The
Experience. I never get tired of
listening to that video I recorded with the Jurassic Park theme. I don’t know what else can compare to that in
terms of the absolute magic of the experience.
Anything I did in Greece with the Olympics? Maybe something in Scotland with
Braveheart? I don’t know. I’d have to think about it. On the other hand,
as wonderful as the mountains were, the prairie was boring. It is the most boring place I have ever
been. Three days in the prairie, and I
was bored after three hours.
 |
| Dinosaur PP, Alberta |
Winnipeg
was kind of interesting, but the whole region was a bore. Just endless grasslands. No charming beauty. There are lakes in Manitoba and Minnesota,
but I didn’t see them this trip. Those
would be interesting, kind of. In the
past three days, since I left Dinosaur Provincial Park, it was a total bore. Just a quest for two flag pins and two
provincial legislative assemblies. That
is not to say I did not have my share fair of adventure and adversity today,
but that will be covered in the en route entry, where I will record the entire
return journey, starting from dinner last night, which served as my last
activity of the trip.
 |
| Manitoba Legislative Assembly, Winnipeg, Manitoba |
When I went to
Yellowknife, Fort Simpson, and Iqaluit, the tiny communities of Northern
Canada, I loved it, the quiet isolation, the woods, the everything. The prairie held no such magic. No, to quote Gaston, “It’s a bore.” In short, Yellowstone, vast and diverse. Glacier, dramatic and breathtaking, Waterton
even more so. Canadian Rockies, unreal
natural beauty. Dinosaur Provinical Park,
a truly magical experience. The Prairie,
a bore. Okay, more detailed reflection
en route.
Aboard DL 1526, En route MSP-LGA
Alright, I have written about how I have evaded reality for the past 10
Days, how I have ventured and journeyed and explored for the past 10 Days. In 12 hours, I will have to face the
consequences of evading reality for those 10 Days. I will have to deal with whatever awaits me
at work, probably working 50- or 60-hour weeks for the rest of the summer. I will have to deal with whatever mess is in
my apartment. I will have to deal with
whatever romantic connections I may or may not have available to me. I will have to deal with no longer having my
travel adventures to distract me from unanswered texts. I will have to deal with readjusting my
finances from this trip. I will have to
deal with any red flags that may or may not have been put on my border control
records. I have a lot to deal with when
I get back. While I have always been a
big fan of evading reality, I have also always understood that Rand had it right,
that you can evade reality, but you cannot evade the consequences of evading
reality. Alright, so about those top ten
trips. Quoted from
2/16/15, “Who is John Galt?”
Albuquerque,
New Mexico (Old Town)
What are the top five? In no
particular order, the National Park trip I took with my parents a lifetime ago,
my Eurotrip in 2013, Antarctica, Israel, Alaska. Rounding out the top ten might be Greece, the
WWI trip, the CA-4 trip, the stranded trip in California during Sandy, and,
well can I lump all the 2- and 3-day stamp runs into the tenth place spot? I love doing those.
I don’t think that the April Lesser Antilles trip made the list, nor
would the May Stockholm/Helsinki trip. This
trip, absolutely. It sure as hell beats,
wait, no, all of those trips were so amazing.
How can I say that Yellowstone beats Yosemite? How can I say that Jurassic Park: The
Experience beats Hercules: The Experience?
What else on this trip beat sitting alone in the Temple of Artemis? What beat the ancient ruins in Tikal? Can I just say top eleven? Alright, I’ll do my best to rank them. Grand Canyon et al number one, Eurotrip
number two, Alaska three, Antarctica four, Israel five, Greece, California,
WWI, CA-4, then the stamp runs lumped into the number ten spot. Where does this rank? If I have to make a decision? In a week I might second guess this decision,
but, for now, I’m saying number four, between Alaska and Antarctica. I almost put in at number three, but I think
Alaska barely holds out over this one, barely.
Wait, shit, Kentucky with my family, when I finally fully considered her
to be family, not just a girl my brother was dating, when I saw her as my
sister. That has to count for something,
right? That was when I set out to see
the world. That has to count for
something, too, right? Hmm. Okay, so maybe the top five is Grand Canyon
et al, Eurotrip, Alaska, this trip, and then Kentucky. No, Kentucky would have to be after WWI,
before CA-4. I guess I can take CA-4 out
of the top ten. Well, ain’t that
something? Top five trips of all time,
four of them great summer road trip adventures, including each of the past
three. Ain’t that something? Antarctica is only number five on my
list. I just realized what I should have
called this trip, since I love using song lyrics and titles for my entries: “From
the Mountains to the Prairies.” The song
is, of course, “God Bless America,” but it might as be called “God Bless North
America,” using Jamaica Kincaid’s definition of North America as America and
Canada. However, a similar song is more
apt for this purpose: “America the Beautiful,” which, again, might as well be
called “North America the Beautiful.”
For the past three years, ever since that fateful night in Kentucky three
years ago, when I set to see the world, I have seen the world, but, more
importantly, I have seen North America.
For three years, I have explored, “from sea to shining sea.” I have seen the Pacific in Malibu, in Juneau,
in Vancouver, in Forks. I have seen the
Atlantic on Fire Island, in Maine, in Miami.
I have seen “the amber waves of grain” in Missouri, in Kansas, in Iowa,
in Wisconsin, in Minnesota, in North Dakota, in Saskatchewan, in Manitoba. I have seen “the purple mountain majesties”
in Colorado, in Wyoming, in Montana, in Alberta, in Alaska, in British
Columbia, in the Yukon. I have even seen
the “alabaster cities,” quite literally from “sea to shining sea.”
This trip represented the last great summer
road trip, and there is not much ground for me to cover in the US and
Canada. I guess there are some parts of
Texas I haven’t seen, but I will likely be going to San Antonio next year. I don’t think I have seen the western
Carolinas, though that is high on my list.
I suppose I have never really been in the heart of the deep south. I have thoroughly explored Louisiana and
Florida, but that whole Alabama/Mississipi area, I have only been either to the
coastal areas or along the border with Tennessee. As for Canada, it’s just the Maritimes, though
there is a WHS off the coast of BC that I need to visit, but that’s a cultural
site. Although, if we really want to get
technical, I have never been to the Great Lakes region of Canada. Wait, I have, Toronto borders Lake
Ontario. Yeah, just the Maritimes.
I’m looking at my travel spreadsheet for the
next two years, and, I am practically done with the US and Canada. Those are the highest goals on my list,
saying “US Complete” and “Canada Complete.”
I believe that was the vow I made that night in Kentucky, July
2014. My brother also told me he was
going to marry his girlfriend. I asked
for five years for my goals. He’s taken
three years. I think I need to work that
dig into the wedding speech. Okay, so
what’s left in US/CAN? For mainland US, after
the wedding, it’s just the Carolinas and San Antonio. Then there is Puerto Rico and the Virgin
Islands, along with my 30th Birthday Trip to Hawaii et al. Canada?
Two trips to the Maritimes, the WHS in BC, and maybe a trip to Toronto to
do some checklist items required for “Ontario Complete,” maybe a new Plaque
there, too. That’s it. And that also concludes my reflections.
So, this return journey? I fully expected to write about a very
unadventurous drive from Winnipeg to MSP.
No such luck, but let’s start with dinner. It was amazing, but one problem. I have been to the best steakhouses in New
York. Nothing can beat them,
nothing. Certainly nothing in Winnipeg,
Manitoba. That doesn’t mean I can’t get
a good piece of steak. It just means
that if I want a truly celebratory meal, and I was celebrating a successful
trip, even without the Manitoba flag pin, I shouldn’t go to a steakhouse. I should go to something chic and local and
unique to Winnipeg. That was what I did
in Fargo, North Dakota two years ago, and it was one of the best meals of my
life. That was what we did in Kalispell, Montana a week ago, and it was great.
That was not what I did in Winnipeg, Manitoba. (N.b., almost every meal I had had in Canada,
besides breakfast, was at an A&W or McDonald’s or Dairy Queen. This was not a trip where I intended to have
great meals.)
The dining room was
closed, but they sat me in the lounge, and, since they were in a hurry to
close, they brought my food out quickly, which I appreciated. I ordered a Crown Royal Special Reserve,
which is unique to Manitoba, duck quesadillas, which were quite tasty, and the
rib-eye. My reader should know how I
like my steaks: rare, almost raw. This
came out medium-rare, but I was not about to send it back. It tasted fine. I got a dessert to go, bread pudding. I then walked back to my hotel, where I
proceeded to crash. My plan was to have
a pipe, eat the bread pudding, then go to sleep. I forewent the pipe, lied in bed for half an
hour, then decided to have the bread pudding.
No utensils. What did I do? I used two coffee stirrers as chopsticks,
which worked, barely.
Okay, so I wanted
to be on the road at 9 AM, a hard 9 AM.
If my reader doesn’t recall the difference between soft and hard, soft
arrival is when you pull into the entrance of the site, the time your GPS says you
will arrive. Hard arrival is when you
park your car, organize yourself, and make it inside the VC or lobby or light
up your cigar outside a site. Soft
departure is when you leave your hotel room.
Hard departure is when you are all situated in the car and actually out
of the parking lot and on the road. I
figured I wanted to aim to be at the airport at 5:15 PM for my 7:14 PM flight, the
drive was about 6:30 without traffic, and I wanted to allow for two hours of
Dutch Time, one hour planned (border crossing, meals, checking every gas
station for flag pins, etc.), one hour unplanned (getting searched at the
border, traffic, tire issues, etc.).
That meant I should have actually been on the road at 8:45 AM, but I
figured a hard 9 AM departure would be fine.
I woke up early enough, but not early enough to have a pipe, which I
wanted to do on the balcony, and I had no appetite.
I got the local special omelet, but I couldn’t
even finish half of it. I was just too
anxious about the return journey. So
much could go wrong with over seven on the road (including stops). Plenty did.
It was probably 9:15 AM by the time I was on the road. I stopped at a gas station as soon as I left
town, where they had air but no flag pins.
I pressurized the tire again and continued. I only found one other gas station before I
got to the border. No luck. I was about to get to the border when I saw
the Manitoba welcome center on the other side of the road, so I did a U-turn to
get there, which I’m sure would have looked suspicious to watchful eyes. They had the “Manitoba Welcomes You” sign I
had so desperately wanted to see two years ago, but they did not have flag pins
inside. Alright, another U-turn and on
to Duty-free. That was my last best
chance for a flag pin. I asked if they
had Canada/Manitoba souvenirs. She
pointed me in the right direction. There
was a spinning display, where they clearly had pins. There it was.
I grabbed it, held it to my mouth, and kissed the Manitoba flag pin I so
desperately needed. Excellent. I bought three, along with a bottle of Crown
Royal. Okay, now it was time to cross the
border.
There were two officers in the
booth. That was unusual. Maybe they were doing training. He asked me the usual questions and flipped
through my passport for longer than usual.
I saw him pause on the page with the Iranian visa, and I knew that there
would be nothing quick about this process.
He asked some more questions, including how I choose where to
travel. I told him that I like to go the
UNESCO World Heritage Sites and explained what they were. He asked what I went to see in Iran, and I
told him I went to see the Persian ruins, all true. A young male, travelling alone, with a
scruffy beard, and passport stamps from Iran, UAE, and Muscat. Like fuck I raised a red flag. They closed the booth door, consulted for a
bit, and sent me for a secondary.
They
devoted four officers to the screening, with a fifth doing some consulting. The lead officer was top notch, the
fast-paced and sharp manner in which he asked the questions made me feel two
things: nervous and safe. I had nothing
to hide, other than some Cubans, but I still felt nervous. I felt safe because I knew that someone who
did have something to hide would either break down or act suspicious under his
questioning. They asked lots of
questions and took my phone and wallet and had me empty out my jacket pocket,
which had eight Cubans, including the Canada Exclusivo I had planned to smoke as
soon as I got that flag pin. He asked if
I could look through my phone. I knew he
was being polite. I didn’t have a
choice. I hadn’t deleted any texts or
logged out of social media, but, again, there was nothing on my phone to implicate
me, just stuff to embarrass me. However,
he was just looking for photos. He had
asked me if I had any photos besides my tourist photos. Well, I explained, as a joke, I take pictures
of the bathroom fixtures that I use for my Official Us. He said that was okay.
He then came back a bit later and asked me
why there weren’t any pictures from Iran on the phone. I told him that I back up my photos remotely
every month or so to clear space. I
added that, under other circumstances, I would have gladly shared my photos
with him. I was beginning to genuinely
like this guy. Meanwhile, they were
doing all sorts of inspections and tests on my car, bouncing it up and down,
doing all sorts of swabs, looking for hidden compartments. Of course, there was nothing to be
found. They soon said I was free to go,
but I had to sign a slip of paper acknowledging the confiscation of eight Cuban
cigars. Ugh.
I was on my way, and I stopped for food and
gas in Grand Forks, where I had to spend the night two years ago. I stopped again for food and gas in Melrose,
Minnesota, which had the turn-off for Lake Wobegon Trail. The rest of the drive was unadventurous,
until I hit some bad traffic. It was
serious stop and go traffic. I was going
70 mph when the traffic in front of me came to a sudden standstill. I slammed on the brakes and swerved to avoid
the car in front of me. It was too
little, too late. I clipped the back of
his car, damaging my front bumper. Fuck,
it was the first time I had hit another car since I was 16. I have driven close to 100,000 miles since
then.
We pulled over to the side of the
road, and I apologized and asked if everyone was all right. They were.
We exchanged information, and they ascertained that their car was drivable. My car was not. The metal from the bumper was touching the
front driver tire. It would surely slice
open the tire at speed. I tried to pull
the metal away with my hands, failing and cutting myself in the process. The suckiest thing about all of this. I was perfect on time at this point. My GPS said an arrival time of before 5:30
PM, and I was only 40 miles from the airport.
I had already done 4000 miles of driving, including the miles my mother
spent at the wheel. Reader, that meant I
had gone 99% of the trip, and this truly happened on the home stretch. I asked the guy if he had any ideas. He suggested that I use try to use a tire
iron as a lever, and he found a lever and helped me. It appeared to work.
We drove away, and I soon heard a scraping
sound. No, this wouldn’t play. I pulled over at the next safe spot and got
the lever again. I used all my strength
and was able to clear it. The screeching
sound was gone. I made it to the
airport. I told Hertz what happened and
filled out the paperwork. They also said
that they would adjust the price for taking the compact. I checked in, dropped off my checked bag,
headed through security, and went to my gate, only to find my flight delayed by
20 minutes. The pilot was running
late. I sat down and proceeded to write
the first entry. I closed as the
boarding began. Once we took off, I
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close and hopefully publish
before we land. It has been a great
trip, and it truly will be the last one I take like this, at least until I
start taking my family on their trips, and ain’t that a happy thought. On that note, next stop: Hood River, Oregon
for my brother’s wedding.
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