“It’s not always going to be great but it’s always going to be worth it.’’ This is my new mantra, which I will repeat often and with great abandon when things get un-fun on this 5,000-km odyssey across Canada.
Lovely as it is here at Sioux Narrows Provincial Park, I’ve had a change of heart. Hit the wall, shall we say. Descended into unexplained foul-mood territory that I could blame on too much family togetherness, but I think the real problem is that we’ve slept in a tent for eight nights in a row now – so how the f*#! can we still be in Ontario? Have I gone mad? Surely pining for a bit of prairie to break up the trees-and-rocks-and-lakes thing is not normal.
And is it me or is it just plain dumb to put reading material in f&*@ing outhouses? With all that fear of falling in, the stink, the hovering, the covering (of mouth and nose) – all while trying to prop the door shut because for some reason there’s never a bloody lock – who’s got time for a quick read? Stumbling to the outhouse for a night-time poop is even worse: I’m like an extra in the Blair Witch Project, waving my flashlight around like a crazy person in hopes of distracting the wildlife. Add to that my fear that a bear will knock the whole rickety thing over with one swipe of his paw – leaving me horizontal, covered in everyone else’s poop and about to be his bedtime snack – and, well, you get the picture.
Holy shit. Where’s a Hilton when you need one?