Vancouver —> Vancouver Island
The roadtrip was about an hour from where we camped to Horseshoe Bay Terminal in West Vancouver, and we discovered the highway we had been taking in the dark for the past two days was the infamous Sea to Sky Byway. The surprises of Bop give me all the feels, though I’m devastated we don’t have any footage of this highway! Another stolen Google image. Get over it.
(7:00 A.M., somewhere near Vancouver, British Columbia: * tap tap tap*)
“Chris, was that you?” I ask, muffled by the t-shirt I had slung over my face to shield the morning sun.
(Chris pretends he doesn’t hear me)
“There’s someone knocking on your window,” I tell him, peeking out from my “sleeping” position, configured by my head lodged between the passenger seat and the car door, my feet pressed against the windshield, and my torso coiled like a busted slinky around the center console.
(Chris opens the door)
“Oh hai-there, g’mornin!” trumpets an unfamiliar voice…
Around 2AM this morning I made Chris recite A Goofy Movie quotes to me, to prove his love or something. After a few impressions of Powerline and Bobby Zimmeruski, we reflected on the Junction scene.
This is where Max and his father Sir Goofy are on the road again, driving through what looks like Monument Valley. They come to a crossroads (heh) where Max must make a quick decision on which route to take.
Does he chose Idaho, to Lake Destiny, where Sir Goofy plans to take Max fishing? Or does he chose California, where Max longs to meet his beloved Roxanne at Powerline concert?
This reminded us of Bop (esp. the facial expressions and navigating). We thought it should be shared.
Although Idaho has some dope gems, always chose California.
We are working on the blog I swear.
12:30 PM – A blaring silence fills the 15×15 foot waiting room of the Piegan-Carway Border crossing just north of Babb, Montana.
Boots, sitting beside me in a reception chair, dyes the pages of the Border Service Agency coloring book.
As she shades the coat of a drug-sniffing dog with her beige Crayola, my eyes scan to the top of the page. Above the canine’s contour, a caption reads, “Did you know Canada’s Border Service searches every vehicle with drug-sniffing dogs? Smuggling drugs into Canada will get you arrested!”
12:31 PM – The walls are closing in…
Mountains and Glaciers and BEARS, oh my!
I didn’t know what to expect from Glacier. Even though we had been researching national parks for nearly a year, I only saved Pinterest ideas, looked at pictures, and read about cool things to see and do.
The drive into the Tetons is something I’ll never forget, but the initial drive down Glacier’s Going-to-the-Sun Road has been pulling my heart strings ever since. I had never seen anything like it, it was sunset and the sky was an array of bold warm colors, the mountains and canyons looked as though they were placed perfectly for show. I was the lucky one sitting passenger, spending most of the drive with my head and upper body out of the window, taking as many pictures as possible and trying to explain to Chris what I was seeing. Every time I gasped Chris would shout “IS IT A BEAR HON!?” (it never was). I wish we’d recorded our reactions.
We hit the 2,500 milestone in Helena, MT. Coincidentally, it was there we decided to rest, recover, and reminisce on the first leg of our trip. It was the perfect place for it since there wasn’t shit to tempt us into leaving the hotel besides coffee and bdubs. So we ate some leftover silly candy from Colorado and shacked up at a Holiday Inn in Montana’s capital. We used those two days to catch up on uploading pictures, writing our blog, and just generally pulling our lives together. Doing so gave us the chance to reflect on the trip so far, here’s what we found…
Yellowstone is an alien planet. It’s a fantastical forest of volcanic absurdity and diverse life. A national park plopped in the caldera of its namesake supervolcano, primed and ready to bork the United States into the history books and pretty much send the planet into a post-apocalyptic economic and humanitarian dystopia. That probs won’t go down for a while, but tip your bartender just in case. They say Saint Peter is pretty adamant about that shit.
Thank you Jeb. Try rippin’ around the land of maple syrup for a week and trying to blog (or even wanting to). Anywho, here I am, back by popular demand. (And also threats. Actually, pretty much just by threats).
It seems like the Grand Teets were weeks ago…because they were.
Letchya girl catch you up to speed right quick: