Lindsay and I had switched driving somewhere along the way. I find driving therapeutic so I didn’t mind the switch. We were bound for Vancouver, both ready to get as close to America as possible before the day was done and I was hoping for a rendezvous with miss Yukon, Jennifer Matchett. We got to a crossroads somewhere south of Prince George, stay on 97 south and then cut over on Hwy 1 as Tom suggested or take the more direct Hwy 99. I always adhered to the old geometric principle of the “closest distance between two points is a straight line”, although I’ll be honest, I learned that from a Deana Carter song, not math class. We opted for the more direct route, HWY 99. Probably a bad decision. The road was beyond winding and the sun was setting, putting us in the middle of the mountains, in the dark, on the most winding road in Canada. Literally 90 degree turn after 90 degree turn. Through in a few one lane wooden bridges and lack of guard rails, and poor reflective surfaces of these fine Canadian roads, and it was 200 miles of pain. We were driving through canyons with only the company of railroad cars. We stopped to get gas and even the gas station attendant commented as to the desolation of the highway this evening. She remarked it was awfully quiet on the road tonight and I laughed and said I felt like we were the only ones out there. Although, it wasn’t that I really wanted to deal with oncoming traffic because I found it safest to drive down the center of the road. Although Canadians believe in rumble strips in the median, so everytime I crossed it, it gave us a good shake. British Columbia also has a lot of full service gas stations, meaning people pump your gas for you. I was super confused and didn’t understand the necessity for this, and felt like we should’ve probably given the pump guy a tip, but I lacked loonies. Anyway, back to the highway of doom.
While we pretend to be fearless, we have little girl insecurities. Like driving in the middle of nowhere, in the mountains, at night. Luckily we had a full tank of gas, and every type of gear that you could imagine. And we really don’t want to make our parents worry. So we are really okay, just didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere, and needed to get to Vancouver as soon as possible. So yea, to ease the darkness, I sang. My own words. I may or may not have changed “I don’t want you back” to “We can’t go back”, singing of our desire to get to Vancouver and off this winding road. Lindsay made us sandwiches, much needed. Of the PB & J variety, although I opted for my peanut butter and chocolate bar sandwich creation from the other day. Lindsay spilled the jelly all over the dashboard and exclaimed, “I have grape jelly on my dashboard”. I’m fairly certain that’s not a common phrase or problem for that matter. I felt better after some sammies, and finally the road seemed to straighten out. After some legit hairpin turns.
We made it to Whistler, a big ski capital and I found Jenni’s phone number. A quick text to her that read “Matchett darling. Metz. In Whistler. En route to Van”. I quickly got a response. “Holy shit, ready for you, with open arms”. While I drove, Lindsay communicated with Jen, quickly resolving that she would take in two vagabonds on short notice and arranged for us to meet her at her house in Vancouver. Suddenly, I was very excited about Vancouver. It had been more than a year since Jenni and I had frolicked around Dublin, and I missed her and her vibrance severely. We found ourselves in a big city for the first time in two weeks, unless you count going around Calgary. We went across the Lion’s Gate bridge, and Tom led us to Miss Matchett. She was returning from a friends birthday celebration, so we got to her street a few minutes before her, enough time to organize the car temporarily and find our stuff. When her cab pulled up, we ran to each other and embraced. So Hollywood. We made introductions and headed into her basement apartment in this charming Vancouver neighborhood neared UBC. She quickly got us set up in her roommates room (thanks Rye for allowing us to take up your space). Ah a real bed. It had been a while. Although it was 1:30 am, we sat up for a while catching up. She was thrilled to hear about all of our adventures in her homeland of Yukon and we caught up on the last year of our lives. The best kind of friends, when you haven’t seen each other or really kept that much in touch in a whole year, but you can reunite without missing a beat. She was still in shell shock that I was standing in her living room. Although we had discussed me someday coming to see her, and visiting the Yukon, I think neither of us thought it’d really happen so soon. It was infinitely good to see her and we chatted about our Dublin times, how they seemed like yesterday but yet a world away. Around 2:15 we decided we were all exhausted, so we went to bed. The comforts of a real home, you begin to appreciate when you’ve been on the road and sleeping outside for 2 weeks.
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