TLGSRTA - Day 10 - The Return Journey

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 30^th 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.

TLGSRTA - Day 9 - Across the Prairie

7/11/15, “Across the Prairie”

Winnipeg, Manitoba

See those two words?  “Winnipeg, Manitoba.”  I have been waiting two years to write that.  August 19, 2013 was the scariest night of my life.  I was making my way up to Winnipeg from North Dakota, and I got selected at the border for a secondary screening, nothing unusual for me, which, in and of itself was odd in that I always had trouble at the Canadian border, even before that night.  This was different, though.  I had raised some red flags or something, maybe my itinerary seemed too odd, something raised their suspicions.  They were looking for something.  Without going into too much detail, they found something, and I was certain I was going to wind up in a Canadian prison.  After three hours, I was “voluntarily allowed to leave Canada,” which meant I had to go back around to the States, and I was warned not to try again to enter Canada that trip.  I had to find a hotel in North Dakota.  Here is the beginning of that entry:

Grand Forks, North Dakota.

Unfortunately, this byline is not reading ‘Winnipeg, Manitoba.’  Fortunately, it is not reading ‘Canadian Jail, Manitoba’ or having a date of a few days later, since they probably wouldn’t let me use my computer in jail.  The art of travel is maintaining the fine edge between adventure and adversity, but to call what happened today either adventure or adversity would be to underplay it.

Now, here I am, at the end of my journey, at last in Winnipeg, sitting on my hotel balcony, smoking an H. Upmann fresh from a box I just purchased, as I stare at the Manitoba Legislative Assembly Building off in the distance.  Life is good again.  Life was not good that night.  All in all, today was an extremely boring day.  I could probably properly write this entry in one paragraph, that’s how boring it was, and I will do so, since I am starving and want to get dinner.

I slept in quite a bit this morning, which was difficult, since I have been used to getting up early this trip, and I had trouble getting back to sleep.  I had Canadian bacon benedict for breakfast, with a side of wild Saskatchewan mushrooms.  That was my official meal in Saskatchewan.  I published my entry and the rest of my photos from Phase I of the trip before heading to the Legislative Assembly, where I took my ceremonial pictures.  They were supposed to have a gift shop there, but it was closed down.  My reader is well aware of my quest to collect a flag pin in each Canadian Province.  I called another shop, which was actually like one building away, and they had it.  As I was going into the parking lot, I misjudged a ramp and heard a pop from the side of my car.  I bit my tongue from the impact and tasted blood.  When I parked, everything looked fine.  Okay.

I headed into the museum, and the determined manner in which I walked into the gift shop was a dead giveaway.  The clerk immediately asked me if I had called for the flag pin.  She had it for me.  Jackpot.  I got my souvenirs and walked out, lighting up my Partagas and announcing, “Saskatcehwan Complete.”  I then called a cigar shop.  They had what I wanted, and the prices were slightly more reasonable.  They also had some more affordable blends.  One problem, well, two actually.  First, it was inside a mall, so I had to leave my cigar in the car.  Second, I had a fraud block on my debit card, so I had to call my bank.  It ate into some of my Dutch time.  I got on the road and headed to Winnipeg.  Then I got the low pressure light for my tire.  Sure enough, the tire was losing air.  I had to stop a few times to repressurize the tire, which did the trick, since I could not find a tire shop that was open, and I could not take the time to change the tire by hand.

I stopped at a DQ for lunch, which was delicious, and I was soon at the Manitoba border, where I took my ceremonial pictures with the sign.  I lit up a Padron, found a nice downgrade to hit 100, and continued to Winnipeg.  Oh, while I was at the DQ, I called a souvenir shop in Winnipeg.  They said they were open late and had flag pins.  Perfect.  I put that in as my destination.  After the Padron, I opted for my last Las Calaveras I had brought, which was falling apart and smoked like shit.

After a long and boring drive across the prairie, I was soon at the gift shop, which was in a shopping mall.  They were open.  Yes.  They had flag pins.  Yes.  Wait, no.  What!  FUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!   They only had Canadian flag pins, no Manitoba flag pins.  This was the only place that would opened late, and everything else would not open early enough tomorrow for me to get to my flight in time.  I even considered switching my flight, but I was on the last flight out tomorrow night, and a Monday morning flight (yes, I considered that), would get me to work too late on Monday.  No, no, no.  Besides, there was no guarantee another place might have it.  My best bets were a gas station on the road or the duty free shop at the border.  I checked every other shop in the mall.  No, no dice.  I asked at the tourist office.  They recommended a gas station on the road and were convinced that nowhere in town would have the flag pin.  This was the only souvenir area.  Alas.

Dejected, I headed to the legislative assembly, where a wedding party was taking their ceremonial pictures.  The legislative assembly had a gift shop, but it was closed on the weekend.  Fuck!  They would have the pin if anyone did.  I then went to check my 8/19/13 entry for something.  Yes, I had had a Cuban and an ice cream in Manitoba, as the “International Peace Garden,” north the 49^th Parallel, which I was counting as my Official meal and smoke for Manitoba.  That meant the legislative assembly was all I needed.  I took my ceremonial picture and announced, “Manitoba Complete.  Canadian Prairie Complete.”  I assured myself I’d find the flag pin tomorrow and headed to my car.  I then went to my hotel, checked in, got a dinner recommendation and went up to my room.  I was planning on just going straight to dinner, but I saw my hotel had a balcony with a view of the legislative assembly, so I cracked open my box of cigars brought some furniture outside, and sat down, where I proceeded to light up my H. Upmann and write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get some food.  Tomorrow I am homeward bound.

TLGSRTA - Day 8 - Of Stadiums and Plaques

7/10/15, “Of Stadiums and Plaques”

Calgary, Alberta

I have now been inside each of the 11 Olympic Stadiums (summer and winter) in North America, and this is a momentous occasion.  Each one has been its own adventure.  Montreal (Summer 1976), I had just gotten my passport and drove up to Canada for the weekend, the first time I had left the country in a decade.  St. Louis (Summer 1904), served as the track for the Washington University, but it was under construction, so we had to sneak in.  Atlanta (Summer 1996), had to go to an Atlanta Braves game, and apparently they are about to tear it down now.  Los Angeles (Summer 1932, 1984) had to call ahead before I left on the trip to the stadium director to arrange access.  Squaw Valley (Winter 1960), stadium has been torn down, had to use my GPS coordinates and old pictures to figure out where it used to stand.  Lake Placid (Winter 1980), now a horse grounds, and it was covered in snow, had to trek to the snow to get the spot.  Lake Placid (Winter 1932), now a skating rink, had to rent speed skates to be allowed inside.  Vancouver (Winter 2010), special trip for the purpose, had to buy a ticket to a soccer game, too, just to walk around inside and take pictures.  Salt Lake City (Winter 2002), same story.  Mexico City (Summer 1968), same story, but it was on the second trip, since the first time around I failed at sneaking in.  Now, here in Calgary (Winter 1988), it was much simpler.

In all my travel adventures, getting into Stadiums and finding Plaques always seem to give me the most trouble.  Today is focused around doing both.  I woke up a little later than I had wanted to and packed and went down for breakfast, the same as yesterday.  I then headed into the town of Banff, which was a letdown, and there would not be any more places to stop along the road.  I would go straight from the VC to the airport, where I would exchange my car.  The VC had the Official Parks Canada souvenirs, I found the plaque with minimal difficulty, and then went to a touristy gift shop before heading out.  I was at the airport around 11 PM, but all they had to exchange was a compact car.  I gave it a try.  It was perfectly comfortable, so I did the swap before heading to the Olympic Stadium.

When I got there, I saw lots of cars in the parking lot, surely something was going on there.  Hmm, what could it be?  I walked around, looking for an entrance, and I found the amateur sports area, which had lots of students.  I casually asked one how I could get on the field.  He pointed to a door that said “Authorized Personnel Only” and told me how to get there.  Wait, did this gambit really work?  I soon heard lots of noise and saw the field.  I was there.  This was it.  All 11 Olympic Stadiums in North America.  I took some ceremonial pictures and then found a nice seat in the stands, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can take some more ceremonial pictures and make my way to Regina.

Regina, Saskatchewan

I have been using a lot of superlatives this trip, and I will toss in a couple more in this entry for good measure, one about Saskatchewan, another about the last WHS I visited in Alberta this afternoon.  Saskatchewan is, quite probably, the most boring place I have ever visited.  I am in the heart of the capital city, and there is nothing here, just a decent-sized casino and a small shopping mall.  My hotel, at 25 storeys, is the highest in the whole city.  There are no World Heritage Sites here, no Stadiums, no Plaques, just the Legislative Building.  As soon as I take my ceremonial picture and light up my Cuban, it’ll be Saskatchewan complete.  There are no scenic mountain or lake vistas, just endless prairie.  It is boring af.  (Reader, if you are over 30, cf. Urban Dictionary for that term.)  It is now just over 12 hours since I closed at the Stadium, and it feels like a lifetime ago.  I thought I was just going to get another Plaque and make my way to Regina, which is pronounced Ruh-GY-nuh, not Ruh-GEE-nuh as I had thought.  Tomorrow will be a day for relaxation, and this boring place should be perfect for that.

Okay, so after I closed, I took a few more ceremonial pictures and then went back to my car, punching in a cigar store for my destination, since I had used up an extra Cuban at Waterton, and I was now one short.  After I grabbed a quick lunch near the destination, I walked to the cigar store.  I took one look at the prices and almost walked out.  Even with the strong dollar, they were more than twice as expensive as they would have been in Western Europe or Mexico.  The tobacco tax was brutal.  I could not justify buying more than one cigar, and I opted for a Ramon Allones Canada Exclusivo.  I would smoke that at Dinosaur, but I smoked a Jericho Hill on the drive.  Dinosaur Provincial Park was pretty much in Bumblefuck, Alberta, the middle of nowhere.  Until I read the UNESCO description this morning, I had no idea what to expect.  The words UN offered did nothing to prepare me for what I found.  “In addition to its particularly beautiful scenery, Dinosaur Provincial Park – located at the heart of the province of Alberta's badlands – contains some of the most important fossil discoveries ever made from the 'Age of Reptiles', in particular about 35 species of dinosaur, dating back some 75 million years.”  I thought dinosaur was just a fun name for the park, didn’t realize they actually had fossils.

I got to the entrance, and it was all there, the flags, the Plaque, the scenic vista.  I had the whole area to myself, and I parked my car.  Well, the vista, unbelievable.  There was only one thing to do.  I opened up my streaming music app and chose the only piece of music that could make it more magical, as I walked around to take my ceremonial pictures.  Without a doubt, it was the single most scenic vista I had ever seen in all my travels.  Overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of it, I wiped the tears from my eyes, as the theme from Jurassic Park blared from my phone.  In the hundred-degree sweltering heat, I lit up my Ramon Allones Canada Exclusivo and announced, “Alberta Complete.”  No other words were necessary, and the tears resumed.

It took me two trips.  There are five World Heritage Sites in Alberta and a Winter Stadium.  If Regina is Canada’s most boring province, Alberta might be its most interesting.  Even this picture cannot do justice, and the magic was only enhanced by love of Jurassic Park.  With John Williams’s theme blasting, it did not take much imagination to see a herd of Brontosauri wading in the river and Dr. Alan Grant saying, “They do move in herds!”  After the novelty wore off, a family came, and I enlisted the help of the father to take pictures of me with the Plaque.

I then headed down to the VC, where I got my souvenirs and found out how to kill an hour.  There was a trail behind the VC, so I walked that for a bit, and every time I heard those iconic bars, I could see the dinosaurs.  When I reflect on the trip, I do not doubt that I will consider this the absolute highlight of the entire trip, possibly maybe even consider the moment I described at the overlook to be in my top five travel moments of all time.  I finished the cigar and got back in the car, playing the theme now through the car’s speaker system.  There was a scenic road by the campgrounds, so I went there.  The road was rough, and, with the music playing, I felt like I was in one of those iconic jeeps from Jurassic Park.  The magic continued, as I made my way through the drive, stopping at the trails and to see some fossils.

After I was done, I went back towards the VC, where I got my, well, whatever I call a meal at 5 PM, which was a bison burger, not well done.  I mean, it was cooked well-done.  They just did a bad job making the burger.  I had my hotel in Regina in my GPS, and I would only need to stop for gas, food, and pictures.  With a working fuel gauge, I now only needed to gas up every 300 miles or so.  The tank only holds 11.1 gallons, but it gets good mileage.  Wait, I got the order wrong, I think.  The burger was first, then the drive.  It doesn’t matter.  Either way, afterwards, I stopped back at the overlook for some ceremonial pictures with my water bottle and the brochure I had gotten at the VC.  I took some at one overlook and then went to the Plaque.  Wait, where was my brochure?  I panicked.  I drove back to the first area and found it had fallen out of my pocket.  I retrieved it and then went back to the plaque to take some more ceremonial pictures.  It was almost six hours to Regina from there.  Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, almost all of it would be on the Trans-Canadian Highway.  I had expected it to be like an Interstate, but it was more like US-1 than I-95.  Going through the prairie, there were no scenic views.  I had lit up a Tatuaje for the drive and stopped for dinner as soon as the cigar was done.

I went to an A&W on the opposite side, which added 15 minutes getting back on the highway, and I chose the wrong place for gas, too.  It was an all-around disaster.  If I had waited five minutes, I could have gone for both gas and food on my side, right off the side of the road.  Alas.  I lit up an Undercrown after dinner and realized I would need gas before I finished the cigar, which also fucked things up.  Anyway, I was soon back on the highway, and I would not need to stop until I reached the border with Saskatchewan.  They had a nice sign, but it was in a rest area kind of thing, not on the side of the road, and I overshot it by quite a few meters, which I meant I had to reverse along the shoulder, not the easiest thing to do.  I got my ceremonial pictures and continued straight to my hotel without stopping.  I had hoped to do the whole TCH stretch on cruise control without pressing the break, but that was not to be, due to slow downs for cities and such.

It was not long before I was at the hotel, smoking an Avo as I listened to Les Miz in the home stretch.  The guy there told me everything I needed to know for tomorrow, where to the legislature was, where to get souvenirs (at the legislature, most likely, and where else if not), etc.  I will get to sleep in tomorrow, and I am very happy about that.  I could leave here in the afternoon and still be good.  I just need to get to Winnipeg in time for dinner and before the souvenir shops there close.  I might even be able to go to the souvenir shops in Winnipeg Sunday morning, not sure when I need to leave Winnipeg on Sunday to make my flight, and I might lose an hour to a time zone shift, not sure about that either.  I went up to my room, relaxed for half an hour, grabbed my pipe, and went downstairs to the smoking area, where I lit up my Castello and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get some sleep.  It is now 2:23 AM.

TLGSRTA - Day 7 - The Forced Audible

7/9/15, “The Forced Audible”

Jasper, Alberta (Jasper National Park)

Well, I suppose the Canadian Rockies are now necessarily a contender for the title of “The Most Beautiful Place I Have Ever Visited.”  While Jasper can’t quite compare to Waterton, the natural beauty here is unmatched by anything I have ever seen outside of Alaska/Yukon and Antarctica.  I will soon be making my way south to Lake Louise and Banff, where I will be spending the night.  Right, spending the night in Banff, that’s the audible.  I was supposed to spend the night in Calgary.  When we exercised the Helena Option, it was an unforced audible, one we elected to do out of convenience.  This was a forced audible, so that I didn’t have to do 10 hours of driving again on short sleep, get a third night of short sleep, followed by a third 10-hour driving day, maybe even longer.

The VC at Banff closes at 7 PM, and I needed to be on the road by 9 AM to have a chance at enjoying Jasper and making it to Banff in time.  Even still, that was cutting it close.  The gift shop at the legislature opened at 9 AM, so that was the limiting reactant.  After a delicious steak and eggs breakfast, I didn’t leave the hotel until 9 AM, but it was only a few minutes from there to the legislature.  When I got there, after some trouble parking, plenty of people were taking pictures, so I took my ceremonial pictures before heading to the gift shop.  I just needed my flag pin, so they showed me the display.  There it was.  No, they were sold out.  Okay, I’d take the display pin.  No, they couldn’t do that.  Wait, what?  The pins were on order, and they didn’t need a display model for something that was out of stock, right?  Wrong.  They refused to sell it to me.  I begged and pleaded, but they refused.  I told them I came all the way from New York to get a flag pin.  Nope, no dice.  Alright, where else could I get it?

They suggested West Edmonton Mall.  I looked up souvenir shops in Edmonton.  There was like a warehouse store not too far away.  They had to have it.  They opened at 10 AM, and it was almost 10 AM.  Needless to say, at this point I was considering a Plan B.  I had a prepaid reservation in Calgary.  Could I get a refund and book something in Banff?  The warehouse store was completely sold out, someone had just bought them all out a few days ago, and he said no one else in town would have it, since he’s the one who supplies the stores.  I called WEM.  They said they had it.  Plan B was become more and more necessary now.  The funniest part was, I have been to Edmonton before, but I wasn’t collecting Provincial legislatures and flag pins then, which was what necessitated this hunt.  As I was driving, I noticed that my suit wasn’t in the car.

Fuck.  I had left it in the hotel.  Okay, now there was zero chance of me getting to the VC in Banff.  I began switching my reservation.  I called the hotel here, the hotel in Calgary, and the hotel in Banff.  Wait, wasn’t my passport in my suit?!?  Yikes.  An adventure, indeed.  Banff had rooms.  Edmonton found my suit.  Calgary could not refund my reservation.  I had to call hotels.com directly.  My passport was not in my suit.  Where could it be?  Did I leave it in my room?  Housekeeping would check.  Hotels.com said they would make an exception for such a good customer and issue a refund.  Meanwhile, I was looking for my souvenir shop.  It was all so familiar, and instinct kicked in, my memory, and my sense of direction.  I had been here before, two years ago.  I quickly found the souvenir shop and the flag pin.  Everything was working out, except the passport.  I had my Global Entry card, so I could get back into the US, but that passport has so many stamps.  Maybe it was in my bag, in my sleep deprived state, could I have forgotten I put it away?

That was exactly what happened.  There it was.  I went back to the hotel, got my suit, and was back on the road at 11 AM with a hotel booked in Banff.  I made my way to Jasper, knowing that I could now enjoy my time in the park.  I stopped for gas and food along the way, getting lunch at A&W, smoking a Camacho before lunch and a Timeless afterwards.  When I got to Jasper NP, I was once again floored by the natural beauty.  I was in town soon after that, where I went to the VC, the ATM, and then found a nice spot in the shade, where I lit up a Davidoff and proceeded to write this entry.  I will now close so that I can upload my first batch of photos before I get on the road.

Banff, Alberta (Banff National Park)

What a day!  What a fucking day!  If the seven hours I related in the above entry did not seem exhausting enough, the past seven hours since I closed were even more exhausting.  After I closed and uploaded photos, I went to gas up, the car continuing to hold less and less gas.  I am now having to gas up every 100-150 miles, and I fear that if I continue like this, it will be down to 50 miles, which is not a viable option.  I then continued down the highway to Banff, making sure to stop as much as I could along the way.  I didn’t care what time I got to my hotel, but I didn’t much relish the idea of driving in the dark, not after last night.  I figured that if I got to the hotel at 10:30 PM that would be great, which left me about an hour and a half of activity time.  My original readers know what Dutch time is, but I’ll refresh my newer readers.

The time from when I wake up in the morning to the time I arrive at my hotel at night can be split up into three categories: transit time, activity time, and Dutch time.  Activity time is the 30 minutes for a walk back and forth to a scenic overlook.  Transit time is the hour it takes to drive there.  Dutch time, well, that’s everything else (cf. 7/22/13, The Hague, The Netherlands).  Originally called “horseshit time” (cf. 7/19/13, Baiersbronn, Germany), it refers to the stuff that simply has to be done, such as lunch and gas, and the stuff that cannot be planned, such as traffic or forgetting your suit in a hotel.  This morning had plenty of Dutch time.  In fact, until 11 AM, it was almost all Dutch time, the only activity time being my pictures at the Legislative Building.  Well, after I closed in Jasper, I was done with posting my photos at around 5 PM.  The drive to Lake Louise, where I knew the Plaque to be was about three hours (the transit time).  I hadn’t eaten yet.  I figured that sunset would be a little before 10 PM.  That left me slightly almost two hours for activity time and Dutch time.

There were only two stops I wanted to make on the way to Lake Louise, plus maybe food and/or gas, an hour of activity time, tops.  I gassed up in Jasper, but I wasn’t sure if I could make it to Lake Louise, even though it was only about 230 klicks (130 miles for my non-metric readers) away.  I knew that I would need food, but there were a couple of places on the way where I surely could get some chicken fingers or something.  That left almost an hour of Dutch time allowance.  Surely I’d be fine.  I usually budget an hour of unplanned Dutch time for an entire day.  The first stop was Athabasca falls, a beautiful and scenic overlook of a waterfall.  The next stop was going to be a place at the southern border of the park called the “Icefield Centre,” which had food.  I got there, but the cafeteria was closed, and I didn’t want to sit down to a meal.  I got a Diet Coke and some chocolate, an odd combination to be sure, but I figured it would last me an hour.  I figured wrong.

I stopped again at the next place that might have food, but their cafeteria was closed, too, so I got a beef stick at the grocery store.  I figured that that would tide me over until I got to Lake Louise.  I figured right.  As I was driving through the parks, I was just floored by the natural beauty of the Northern Rockies.  There is nothing like it in the world, and I’m not even sure Alaska can compare.  I certainly chose right for this trip.  I’m sure when I go to Greenland, it will go to the top of the list, but, for now, the Northern Rockies can hold that title.  There was such breathtaking beauty along the way, clearly visible from the road.

My next stop was Peyto Lake, where the inscription photo was taken, a must-see for me.  It was a steep hike up to the viewpoint, and I lit up my Churchill for the Official Cuban of the WHS, figuring it would last me until I got to the Plaque.  When I got to the viewpoint of Peyto Lake, my dreams were shattered.  No, no, no, the sun was right in my eye, and I couldn’t get good pictures, the green color of the lake no longer discernible.  I took my pictures, including some ceremonial pictures, then I saw a couple sitting out on the rock ledge below the viewpoint.  Hmm, how did they get there?  There was no path.  They must have climbed the decking.  I did the same and went to take some ceremonial pictures by them.  The pictures came out better, as I had more control over the angles, but it wasn’t the right picture, since the inscription photo was clear taken from up on the deck.  I climbed back up and headed down to the parking lot.

I had enough cigar and gas to get me to Lake Louise, maybe even enough gas to get me to Banff.  I also should have had no problem getting to the Plaque before sunset and to my hotel before dark.  Should being the keyword.  Reader, remember that Dutch Time.  I knew the Plaque to be at Lake Louise.  I did not realize that the lake itself was quite a few klicks from the village of Lake Louise.  Was the Plaque at the village or the lake?  I had no idea.  I started to go to the lake itself, but that felt wrong, so I turned around and went back to the village.  When I got there, I Googled the plaque, as I quickly realized that this, too, was wrong.  I had to drive all the way back to the lake.  I was chasing the sunset.  I was on a complete adrenaline rush, too focused on my quest to notice my hunger.  As I was walking around the village, a couple asked me to take their picture.  I was very tight on time, but how could I refuse?  How many times have I asked strangers to take my picture?  I got to the lake, but you couldn’t just drive up to the lake, there was a bit of a hike, a small hike, but every minute counted.

There it was, the plaque, prominently and gorgeously displayed, out in the open, accessible to the public 24/7/365, at the most scenic spot in the whole site, not squirreled away next to a restroom or secreted away in a storage closet.  NPS, take note, get some lessons from your brothers to the north.  I took my ceremonial pictures and then enlisted some help from strangers.  The first ones came out blurry, but the women who had taken them was walking away.  I asked someone else.  He knew what he was doing.  He knew how to properly hold and steady the camera.  The horizontal picture came out beautifully, but the vertical one had the Plaque cut off.  He kept taking and retaking the pictures until I had my perfect picture.  I apologized for tormenting him and thanked him profusely, but he was glad to oblige, or at least he appeared to be.  I had ditched my cigar for the Official Plaque pictures, thinking it was done, but, after the pictures, I realized that there was still enough cigar left to sit down and enjoy this beautiful view as dusk kicked in.  I picked up the cigar and did just that before ditching the cigar again and heading back to my car.

Reader, if you figured that my adventures for the day were over at that point, you figured wrong.  I needed food, and I was almost an hour from my hotel.  I would need to get food in Lake Louise.  I could not wait until I got to Banff.  I got back to the village around 9:45 PM, and almost everything was closed, except for a casual restaurant and a souvenir shop.  They both closed at 10 PM.  Meanwhile, I called Hertz at the Calgary airport.  They had one American car, but it was a compact car.  I was welcome to it, and they would check with the distribution center to see if they could find a full-size.  I’d rather have the compact car with a working fuel gauge than the one I was driving.  I went to the restaurant, ordered a grilled cheese sandwich to go, along with a Diet Coke, and went back to the souvenir shop.  My food was ready by the time I got my souvenirs, and I scarfed it down walking back to my car.

With all the shuttling between the village and the lake, I could no longer risk the drive to Banff.  I went to the gas station across the street, where a Danish couple asked me if I could help them with Canadian gas.  Of course I would.  They didn’t understand the octane levels.  I told them that, with a rental car, always use the cheapest gas.  If it’s your own car, it might make sense to use premium, but only if you consistently use premium, not with a rental, though.  One small problem.  The server was offline, so we couldn’t use the pumps there.  Fortunately, there was one about a hundred meters down the road.  That worked.  I was able to get enough gas in the tank to make it to the airport, which should be my first stop after I leave Banff tomorrow.  The twilit drive to the hotel was possibly even more beautiful than the sunlit drive earlier.  I was on the Trans-Canadian highway, and I saw a series of short tunnels, which I thought were pedestrian bridges.  I soon realized that they were actually wildlife crossing.  I guess you woudn’t want a deer to walk across a major highway.

I was at my hotel before dark.  I checked in, parked, went up to my room, got a Coke Zero, washed my feet, cleaned my cut, and reapplied the bandage to my knee.  I got to the hotel at 11 PM, which I knew meant I would not get to sleep until 1 AM.  It is almost 1 AM now.  I realized that I left my phone cord in the car, so I wouldn’t be able to publish today.  I guess I’ll do it during breakfast.  I got myself situated, sat down by the fireplace (a cheap gas knockoff), lit up an Ardor, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep.  The VC here opens at 9 AM, so I want to get there right when they open, as I have another long day ahead of me, but, at least I’ll be doing it with six hours of sleep instead of four, as I have done the past two nights.  Once I get to Regina, the pace will slow up for the last two days of the trip.  It has been an amazing trip, and now I’m in the homestretch.

TLGSRTA - Day 6 - The Parting of the Ways

7/8/15, “The Parting of the Ways” At sea, MV International, Upper Waterton Lake

“This is unreal,” I thought to myself for not the first time since I entered Waterton Lakes National Park.  This can’t be real.  No, surely it is just a matte painting.  Such natural beauty could not possibly exist.  No, I have traveled the world, and nowhere else I have been can compare to this, not Alaska, not Antarctica, not Glacier.  This simply cannot be real.  However, in the context of this trip, if Grand Teton NP was just the appetizer, this is but the sorbet that is cleansing my pallet before I continue on to the Canadian Rocky Mountains Parks tomorrow.

Today will be, by far the most exhausting day of the trip, and I have at least seven hours left before I get to my hotel in Edmonton, most of which will be on the road.  I am starving and tired and not looking forward to that drive, but this makes it all worthwhile.  It was after midnight by the time I got back to the room last night, which meant I got less than four hours of sleep.  We hurried to get to the airport, and it was time for The Parting of the Ways.  We said our goodbye and thanked each other for our respective contributions to the trip.  I wanted to publish my photos from the airport, but I was tight on time, and it took way too long for me to get the photos ready.  I figured I would publish after lunch.  My plan was to drive up I-15 to the border, go to Waterton Lakes NP, take the boat to Goat Haunt, go back, go to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, and make my way up to Edmonton.  I would also stop at Lethbridge to exchange the car.  With any luck, I would be at my hotel in Edmonton before 10 PM.

Needless to say, things did not go according to plan.  I called several audibles, and it all turned out for the best.  Unfortunately, I will not be at my hotel in Edmonton until close to 1 AM, but that’s nothing for me (cf. Budapest).  I figured the border crossing would take me about an hour.  I could be at Waterton Lakes NP at 11:30 AM, spend about 3:30, including the boat to Goat Haunt and back, and get to HSIBJ by 4:30 PM.  I would later learn that that would not have been a viable option, but I did not know that at the time.  I lit up my Davidoff Nic Toro, which I always save for my first big drive of the trip, and this would serve as that purpose.  I stopped for food and coffee and gas and got back on the highway.  I suppose this was around 7 AM, after I finished circling the lower part of the Glacier NP.  The speed limit was 70 mph, and I was at 84 mph as I took a sip of coffee.  There was a cop car coming in the opposite direction.  He put his lights on and did a U-turn.  Fuck.  I had a feeling he’d let me off with just warning, and I was right.  He just wanted to run my information, no formal citation.  I was back on the road in ten minutes.  My next cigar was a My Father I had been carrying around with me at all times since I left New York.  It was quite beat up.

When I got to the border, it was the same as usual.  They asked all the usual questions and searched my belongings.  I was afraid I might have been over the tobacco limit, but I was fine.  An hour later, they let me go, but my schedule was shot at that point.  I found the “Welcome to Alberta” sign and was glad to have cell service again, so I spent too much time on my status updates and notifications.  I then headed up the road to the information center, where I got a map and Wi-Fi and replanned my day.  Swapping Waterton and HSIBJ would only add thirty minutes to the trip, and it meant I’d be guaranteed to see both sites.  I stopped at McDonald’s en route, and I was shocked with how much nicer it was than the American ones, and they even had interesting Canadian specialties.  I opted for the chicken, bacon, onion sandwich, on an onion roll.

It was not long before I was at Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump.  If my reader does not know what a Buffalo Jump is, it’s a place where the Native Americans used to (or maybe still do at some spots) chase buffalo off of a cliff, where they would fall to their deaths.  That was there form of hunting.  When I got there, I quickly found the Plaque and made my way upstairs to the overlook.  I lit up a Partagas and knew that there was no way I would need to spend the full cigar there, but I could not bring the lit cigar through the VC back to the car.  It was a short walk to the overlook, and I walked back to the entrance to the overlook, posting my pictures as I let my cigar go out.  I relit it as soon as I was back outside downstairs.

I headed back to the car and got on my way again.  As my reader will recall, we had serious issues with the fuel gauge, and we have just been refueling every 200 miles, which should get us 7-8 gallons each time, but it has been less for some fills.  According to my calculations, we were really only working with a 200-mile fuel range.  I had gone about 180 since my last fill when I left HSIBJ.  The nearest gas station was about 30 miles.  I was quite nervous.  Well, that gas station was closed.  Fuck.  Another 10 miles to the next gas station.  I wasn’t sure I’d make it.  I did, and I also got another 5 gallons in a container, which I put in the trunk.

It was half an hour from there to Waterton Lakes NP.  I was absolutely floored by the views when I arrived, but I did not want to do any sightseeing until I knew the boat schedule.  I headed straight to the VC, and I had two questions.  One, where was the World Heritage Site Plaque and did Goat Haunt also have one.  Two, what was the boat schedule.  He asked me if I was on a scavenger hunt.  I said that I was.  He had an answer for me.  Well, we are about to dock, so I’ll have to close on that cliffhanger.

Goat Haunt, Montana (Glacier National Park)

Well, it looks like I’m back in the United States, but not really, since I haven’t had to clear border control, nor will I on the way back to Alberta.  There is a US CBP Officer about 20 feet away from me, but you only have to report to him if you want to go hiking.  If you just want to see the Ranger Station, you don’t even need ID.  Alright, so the ranger at the Waterton Lakes VC.  He told me that, prior to yesterday, no one had ever asked him about the Plaque.  I was the fourth person to ask him about it in the past 24 hours.  Oh, Amanda, you beautiful girl.  At her behest, three people had called Waterton about the Plaque.  I admitted that the other calls were all on my behalf.  He told me where to get the boat, the plaque, and the souvenirs, all in the same general vicinity.  The boats were every three hours, with departures at 1 PM and 4 PM.  That is why it worked this way but would not have worked the other way.  I drove down to the marina, got my boat ticket and pin and enjoyed the scenic views before looking for the Plaque.  It was nowhere to be found.  Hmm, we’re about to get back on the boat, so I’ll have to close again on that cliffhanger.

At sea, MV International, Upper Waterton Lake

Eventually I did find the Plaque in a little exhibit area along the lake, exactly where Amanda had said it would be.  Unlike the other Canadian Plaques I have seen, there was no wondrous vista behind the plaque.  However, all you had to do to see the unreal vista was walk about five feet outside.  I took a bunch of ceremonial pictures, and then I noticed something.  Reader, Canadian and US WHS Plaques are quite different.  They have different standard verbiage.  The Canadian Plaques reference the unique features of the site, whereas the US Plaques speak more to the general nature of the WHS program, the only site-specific language being the name of the site and the date/year inscribed.

This Plaque had the US version of the verbiage, in both English and French, and it did not reference the specific features of the Park, just referring to “WATERTON-GLACIER INTERNATIONAL PEACE PARK.”  Reader, in other words, this was a standard US Plauqe.  The only difference being the difference in size, necessitated by including the French.  What did this mean?  It meant that I had found the Plaque.  This was it.  They had only made one Plaque for the entire Park, and I had found it.  I asked someone to take my picture, and I got the Official non-selfie Plaque pictures.  That didn’t stop me from going to Goat Haunt in the off chance they might have a Plaque there, too.

I went to the boat and, once my I put my jaw back in its proper place from the wondrous views, proceeded to write the first part of the entry.  There is little I can say about the boat ride, the beauty of the pictures speaking for themselves.  We were soon at Goat Haunt, where they had a nice exhibit and restrooms.  I checked the exhibit for the Plaque, no Plaque.  I checked by the restrooms, no Plaque.  I then walked towards the ranger station.  No stamp, no Plaque, nothing besides more amazing views.  I sat down and proceeded to write this entry.  I got back on the boat and saw two park rangers sitting there, an NPS ranger and a Parks Canada ranger.  I asked them about the Plaque.  The boat was about to leave.  What was I going to do if they said it was back at the ranger station?  Run for it?  Take the next boat in three hours and get to my hotel in Edmonton at 4 AM?

Neither of them had seen one here.  The NPS ranger said it was in Logan.  No, that was the International Biosphere Reserve plaque.  Oh, well.  The one at Waterton was the only one it certainly seemed, and, with the US verbiage, I counted it.  I sat down and proceeded to write this entry as soon as were at sea, which I will now close in the off chance of catching a nap.  Alright, so, funny story that I forgot to include last night.  I had announced “Mainland US Complete” at Logan, signifying I had been to every WHS in the lower 48 states.  As we were walking to the car, the veteran told us that they just added a new WHS in the US, the San Antonio Missions, including the Alamo.  My mother and I both started cracking up.  It was not Mainland US Complete.  We had been so disconnected from the rest of the world that we hadn’t really checked the news.  Of course, this was the time of the year when they have the Convention and inscribe new sites.  I guess we’ll have to go to San Antonio next year, once they got their plaque there.

Edmonton, Alberta

For the amount of time I will be spending here, my hotel room is way too big.  It’s practically a palace.  I just needed a bed, an outlet, and Wi-Fi.  In my earlier entries today, I wrote about how Waterton was the most dramatically beautiful place I had ever seen in my travels.  It is only fitting that I saw it during the most brutal day of all my travelling.  I have now been awake for over 22 hours, half of which I spent behind the wheel of a car, without getting a wink of sleep since I left Kalispell, and I only got 4 hours of sleep last night.  Not even Maine last summer or Budapest 2013 can compare.  Even my 16 hour drive from this very city two years ago this week was less brutal.  With no naps and starting behind the eight ball on short sleep, I am exhausted, so I will write as quickly as I can.  It has now been 9 hours since I closed on the boat, and really nothing has happened other than a quick dinner and an adventurous short hike.  Whenever I travel with my mother, it’s always a quest, a quest for plaques or stamps or souvenirs or chimpanzees or something.  It is how we have travelled together for 16 years.

When I travel alone, it’s always an adventure.  Trying to cram so much in to so short time leads to those types of adventures, such as I had today.  It is fitting that the last great summer road trip adventure should contain both.  After the parting of the ways, I am now free to do my own crazy schedules, and that is exactly what I’m doing for the Canadian portion.  Okay, after I got off the boat, I went to a chic hot dog place for dinner, which delicious, but not as quick as I hoped.  I lit up my Montecristo No. 2 and walked along the lake, taking ceremonial pictures.  I then went back to the car and headed to the VC.  There was a nearby trail, so I decided I would finish my cigar on the trail.  There was a bear warning on the trailhead.  The tour guide from the boat had joked that bears hate ABBA music, so we should sing to ward them off.  That’s what I did, singing “Our Last Summer.”  I went up a bit, took some ceremonial pictures, and then headed down.  As I was walking down, I took a nasty fall, twisting my ankle, the same foot I injured a year ago today, scraping my hand, badly cutting my knee and my suit pants.  Between the blood and the McFlurry, it is safe to say the suit is practically ruined.  Right, the McFlurry.

I drove pretty much straight through, only stopping to gas up and get food, McDonald’s.  The McFlurry would later leak all over my suit.  I will not recall the frantic quest for open gas stations and restuarants at 11 PM and midnight in Bumblefuck, Alberta, but I’m sure my reader can imagine.  It was getting bad, and I was having trouble staying awake.  My driving was suffering, but there was no place to pull over safely.  Each time I got food or gas, I tried to rest my eyes, but I was unable to nap.  However, walking around energized me.  Before long, I arrived at my hotel and checked in, only to find it was a huge suite, far larger than I needed.  I went to the living room, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can crash and prepare for another brutal day of driving ahead of me.  Hopefully I can get 5 hours of sleep, but it’s doubtful.  I need to be at the Banff VC by 7 PM, and there is almost 8 hours of driving, an hour for gas and food, an hour to walk around in Jasper.  In other words, I need to be out of here at 9 AM, at the latest, which means I need to be up by 8 AM, at the latest.  It is now 2:30 AM.