And what a journey it was.
Highlights include the failure of mapquest to understand that route 302 in Vermont was
Irene'd and therefore kaput.
Also, the Isle de Montreal is under siege, aka, construction. Let me tell you this; the Champlain bridge one lane each way with the sun at eye level and a bunch of French f*cks driving behind you (yes, I was THAT car) is not fun. Also, when you're trying to read the signs without being blinded by the sun...well...you worry you may have missed your exit.
Then, the fun of the no-light highway to Ottawa, route 417, as the sun is in its death throes. And all the eerie " NIGHT DANGER" signs with the deer and moose emblazoned on them.
Down to 3 bars on the gas tank, at least another hour to go, I called my cousin N. (Down to 2 bars on the cell phone. Jesus.)
Me: "Hey Nance. Ummm...kind of panicking about the dark, my general safety due to Canadian wildlife on Saturday nights, ever getting to Ottawa to your house, and my night vision".
My wonderful cousin: "Oh, you're fine. Just get behind a truck and settle in.
Me: "Ok. Call you in a bit. I have to turn the phone off to preserve its life" (and in my head and mine).
Her: "Ok, Call me when you exit off 417 I'll come and meet you."
A steak dinner and several shared bottles of chardonnay awaited me, along with a queen bed in their guest room and a sleep which I fell into.
Yesterday was a bad grief day. I had 10 hours in the car by myself, murders of crows all over Vermont watching me sweat through a drive where I literally had to tell myself, Ok, Carolyn, 20 minutes and you're at this point; you can do anything for 20 minutes.
This is just a short in-between post before I give you Maine Part 4 and Engagement Tale. But it's an important post, a 'go to the places that scare you post'. Because driving through Vermont and New Hampshire on the way to Quebec and ultimately Ottawa was a real challenge for me. At times on the Vermont detour, I would go twenty minutes without seeing another car. Moose warning signs abounded. I know enough, from my Mom's best friend, about what can happen to you and your car if a moose gets in your path. They will shatter your windshield and possibly kill you. I was nervous, no doubt.
But the scenery through rural Vermont. Indescribable. The trees. The hills, the valleys, the sheer green-ness. The steeples, the little houses (little from my car driving at 1500 ft).
The morning my Dad died he told my Mom he was going to Israel, and she was like...uhhh..okay.
At one singular point during my drive, when I had my wits about me (before Montreal, a city I truly do hate); I looked about me at the Vermont landscape and said to myself, if this doesn't make you believe in God, then nothing will.
The next sign I saw for a park called the "Israel River" park, or something to that effect.
I couldn't believe it.
So I thought, my Dad is here on this drive with me, checking out Vermont. At one point, going uphill, I gunned the engine, that satisfying Mazda push, effortless. But I heard my Dad's voice in my head, quietly, as I did this, saying, Carolyn, slow down.
So, the drive was tough.
I cried alot.
I looked at the ring on my finger and was so happy; but also so sad.
My Dad would have loved to have seen it.