The change machine does not give quarters, which the dryer requires. So today’s plans are altered to allow for a public viewing of my underwear etc. drying on the line, since, as luck would have it, I hand washed everything when I woke up, before discovering the quarter problem.
There are worse places in the world to be stuck waiting for a few hours.
This is an easy day for making my way closer to Calgary, within striking distance so I can meet Mrs. Shaweetz tomorrow morning to begin the next leg of this trip. Easy, that is, except for the hellacious wind that is ripping across the plain, and the nasty weather brewing, dissolving, brewing overhead.
Having picked the closest provincial park I can find, I am almost there when I see the sign:
This, people, is what it’s all about. I’m about to make a 1.5 hour detour, because, there is no way I’m not going to Vulcan Alberta, wind be damned.
And a nice fellow at the service station to chat with about old Nortons and BSAs.
Check out those flags, if you will.
My first glimpse of the mountains comes through a wall of black, threatening sky that presently opens up on my head, and then just as quickly dissipates.
Mildly thrilling to think I’ve driven to this point, all the way from my home. Since leaving, I’ve ridden 4500km. I know many have done it, but it's cool for me, I never have. Now, more than ever, I know that driving across the country is a defining Canadian experience, and I am somewhat more than when I left.