Five days of work and relaxination later....
The adventure was a beautiful dream I just didn't want to wake up from.
Day 1.
The first day was full of preparations, procrastinations, and a lack of sleep from the usual prehiking jitters (in reality a combination of internet, videogames, and whatever else I can think of instead of sleep). Sammiches by the bushel were made, of the finest cheapest ryes and flaxen breads that money could find at sobeys, their smokiest saltiest meatslices, deliscious cheeses, and of course the staple of every fine meatwich, the mustard. Breakfast that morning was a fine baco-eggcheese muffin, or rather several, followed with milk and juices.
After this, a wonderfully procrastinated decision to switch the small packs we were planning on carrying for larger ones was made, and we departed. Ready for anything, expecting a gruesomely hot day, we set off downtown to the trailhead. After many hours of walking, a slew of blisters for JAy(as usual, and certainly not unexpected) and finally realizing how agonizingly slow progress was being made, hope for success began to fade. We drank water that was the colour of apple juice, and tasted sortof like treebark. Fortunately, we were carrying empty applejuice containers for waterbottles. Pretending that it was apple juice was probably best for our appetites. After getting slightly lost distancewise a few times, it become very clear that we would not make it past Fredericton Junction that night.
Falling far short of our goal for the evening, we were forced to admit that our plan was ill-conceived and it needed to be altered in order for us to pull off this trip with any amount of success, and more importantly, dignity. The decision was made to travel east along the highway till we reached Welsford, and then South through Grand Bay till Saint John.
Interesting sight of the day: A rather fancy well to do house in Freddy Junction. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the owner was apparently in the dirt market. Beside his house, a pile of dirt taller than the roof was situated, with its own driveway. It became obvious over the next day that this man was either a dirt distributor, or had found a dirtmine on his property and was prospering in this golden age of dirt-merchantry.
Day 2.
Second day of travel, more painful than the first, not as painful as the third. I awoke to a beautiful morning, soaked in my own juices. By juices I of course mean sweat(I know what you were thinking!). My attempts to lighten the load in my pack by buying a special spaceblanket/sleepingbag had apparently only bought me a sweat collection device. I'm pretty sure MEC mixed up my order with someone's Wilderness Poolfiller 2000, designed for people who love to bathe in their own sweat and just can't seem to create enough of it to satisfy their everincreasing sweat needs. This piece of devilry reduced me to a frozen and shivering mound of sopping wet flesh, drifting in and out of sleep, praying for daybreak and the precious heat it promised. The 'sweatsack' of mine, as I shall call it forevermore, remained disgusting for the rest of the journey and after the first night I only used it for a blanket, with less than stellar success. All this compounded by the fact that my tube of Polysporin had been unknowingly crushed the day before and was oozing everywhere made for a very disgusting morning. Jesse of course slept soundly in his plush sleeping bag of warmth +2.
Following me towelling off, we fed and then lifted our backpacks to our cringing bodies. The train tracks were a shortcut we'd planned from the evening before, so we followed them across some vertigo-inducing train bridges and further. Once again, we had no idea where we were till the highway was in sight, despite our maps. Upon discovery of the road, we ventured southeast towards freedom. That freedom we were heading towards certainly was not the freedom of rest and relaxing, but merely the freedom of a third painful day on the road. We followed the road past an interesting farm, which I'll go into more detail about later, a stump hound and his stumpy farmlord much like wooden gargoyles, and up a large hill into a valley. It was at this point that we found an icecream vixen. She proceeded to pull out the smallest most fragile cones money could buy, and place upon them slightly larger than softball sized portions of icecream. The price? 2 dollars. Apparently either she was the daughter of a wealthy dirtmerchant, or the price of icecream goes down the closer you are to the cow. Back to the road we went, the blistering heat melting our icecream as quick as our pace was slow.
Now, this valley we were in was not to be followed of course, but instead we were to be removed from it the only way a valley knows how. Slowly and painfully. If the vikings had a giant in their mythology that made the valleys, it would have been a spiteful and cruel one, possibly named Cripplor or Blistar. We spent the next hour and a half hiking up quite possibly the longest hill ever made. A grade of highway just slight enough to allow vehicles to travel, but long enough that it required an Irving Gas station half way up, presumedly so people could make the full journey up the hill without a jerrycan in the trunk (This Irving also sold icecream of course. In fact, every store in the vicinity of this hill sold icecream).
So onward up the hill, where at the crest I discovered that some of my blisters were turning black. I assumed this was a bad colour for my skin to be, and resolved to continue on anyway. Jesse apparently had a rather painful invisible blister on the arch of his foot that neither of us could see(being invisible of course) but which caused him incredible agony. It was at this point that we passed by a rather disturbing location. Now i'm not saying that telepathy is real, or that a person can hypnotize you just by looking at you and willing you to do something. But as we passed by a farm that claimed to raise something or other, we saw some enormous things that can only be described as humongous dog kennels made of plastic. We were postulating what the heck these could be, when all of a sudden a small cow walks out of one and stares straight at Jesse!
Now like I said, I'm not sure if people can have weird mind powers or not. But this cow sure did. He put some sort of voodoo mind curse on Jesse with his starin, and didn't he fall over and start slipping down the hill towards the cow! We knew then that he was out to get us, either on account of we were on to the old country secret of dirt for money, or he wanted to eat us. Not sure which, but it was definately one of the two. After that fright we were quick on the trail again with a renewed desire to get out of these parts. Further ahead we found a series of relocated old settlement buildings for touristy attracting, and decided to pop in and visit. The staff of course weren't expecting anybody to walk in, so they didn't notice us as they were painting the picnic tables out back. We got a much better tour of the general store that way I think, since I doubt they would have let me try on all their fancy 100 year old top hats and of course the one that looked like a velvet crown of sorts. Felt very regal in that I did.
Jesse decided he needed to find a bathroom, so he frightened the two girls who were tending to the picnic tables(who were hearing noises from the house but were too scared to check it out). After that, we were finally in boringland. Hiking was becoming more and more painful, we still had only a rough idea of where we were, and the scenery was becoming less interesting.
One note though. For some reason, maybe somebody can explain this to me, but every home had other buildings surrounding them that looked like houses too. And I don't just mean their babybarns, which they all had of course, or even their rv's or barns. I mean things like their freakin giant garbage bins by the roadside were 10x10 miniature houses, with glass windows, a peaked roof, and even freaking curtains!!!! I just don't get it...... This trend of course disappeared when we got to civilization, leading me to believe that its likely more difficult to get the zoning permits to rent out a 3 bedroom trash bungalow in the city.
The next part of the journey was uneventful except for two rather amazing things. we discovered the nicest campsite we'd ever seen, and proceeded to nap there for a half hour or so, and we also discovered an awesome waterfall passing under the highway. Those two things really made a difference in how we were feeling coming into the home stretch towards Welsford, and combined with a fresh dose of crotchblow we were ready for anything (crotchblow is street for medicated no-rash powder for your...well, you get it). However, all was not won yet. Rain was upons, and we were without wet weather gear. It started sprinking, and then raining a little, back and forth making us very uneasy. For the next hour or so we become very damp, but finally, painfully, we arrived in Welsford. An Irving never looked so good. Bathroom breaks and snacks were had, and we sat for a moment, as my feet had decided to be several pounds of pissed off nervous system for the last few thousand steps.
We made the call to venture towards refuge at the Eagle Rock picnic table, which coincidentally, was no longer there. Unfortunately, despite the fact that its sheltered from the wind and rain, large trucks pass by all night long and have to slow down for a sharp turn, which means all night the jakebrakes toyed with our brains. Fortunately of course, the ground was flat, our spirits good, and sleep was readily available.
Oh, and before I forget, the farm i spoke of earlier. It was a pretty nondescript farm, except for one thing. 3 large 50 foot white tarps. These tarps were covered with tire halves. Not just chunks, but even halves, and LOTS of them. Under the tarps......dirt. I mean this farm still had a few cows out back, and a bit of old relatively unused farm equipment, some of which was for sale. But apparently this was just the legitimate front for the illegal manufactury of industrial grade dirt, the kind I suspect that fellow from Fredericton Junction must deal in. We're through the looking glass people.....
My typin hands are tired, so maybe tomorrow i'll give you the stunning conclusion to this adventure and I might even begin the tale of my equally amazing journey in fundy national park!
Edit: If anybody manages to actually read the whole damn thing, kudos to you! This is ridiculously long!
Day 1.
The first day was full of preparations, procrastinations, and a lack of sleep from the usual prehiking jitters (in reality a combination of internet, videogames, and whatever else I can think of instead of sleep). Sammiches by the bushel were made, of the finest cheapest ryes and flaxen breads that money could find at sobeys, their smokiest saltiest meatslices, deliscious cheeses, and of course the staple of every fine meatwich, the mustard. Breakfast that morning was a fine baco-eggcheese muffin, or rather several, followed with milk and juices.
After this, a wonderfully procrastinated decision to switch the small packs we were planning on carrying for larger ones was made, and we departed. Ready for anything, expecting a gruesomely hot day, we set off downtown to the trailhead. After many hours of walking, a slew of blisters for JAy(as usual, and certainly not unexpected) and finally realizing how agonizingly slow progress was being made, hope for success began to fade. We drank water that was the colour of apple juice, and tasted sortof like treebark. Fortunately, we were carrying empty applejuice containers for waterbottles. Pretending that it was apple juice was probably best for our appetites. After getting slightly lost distancewise a few times, it become very clear that we would not make it past Fredericton Junction that night.
Falling far short of our goal for the evening, we were forced to admit that our plan was ill-conceived and it needed to be altered in order for us to pull off this trip with any amount of success, and more importantly, dignity. The decision was made to travel east along the highway till we reached Welsford, and then South through Grand Bay till Saint John.
Interesting sight of the day: A rather fancy well to do house in Freddy Junction. Nothing out of the ordinary, except that the owner was apparently in the dirt market. Beside his house, a pile of dirt taller than the roof was situated, with its own driveway. It became obvious over the next day that this man was either a dirt distributor, or had found a dirtmine on his property and was prospering in this golden age of dirt-merchantry.
Day 2.
Second day of travel, more painful than the first, not as painful as the third. I awoke to a beautiful morning, soaked in my own juices. By juices I of course mean sweat(I know what you were thinking!). My attempts to lighten the load in my pack by buying a special spaceblanket/sleepingbag had apparently only bought me a sweat collection device. I'm pretty sure MEC mixed up my order with someone's Wilderness Poolfiller 2000, designed for people who love to bathe in their own sweat and just can't seem to create enough of it to satisfy their everincreasing sweat needs. This piece of devilry reduced me to a frozen and shivering mound of sopping wet flesh, drifting in and out of sleep, praying for daybreak and the precious heat it promised. The 'sweatsack' of mine, as I shall call it forevermore, remained disgusting for the rest of the journey and after the first night I only used it for a blanket, with less than stellar success. All this compounded by the fact that my tube of Polysporin had been unknowingly crushed the day before and was oozing everywhere made for a very disgusting morning. Jesse of course slept soundly in his plush sleeping bag of warmth +2.
Following me towelling off, we fed and then lifted our backpacks to our cringing bodies. The train tracks were a shortcut we'd planned from the evening before, so we followed them across some vertigo-inducing train bridges and further. Once again, we had no idea where we were till the highway was in sight, despite our maps. Upon discovery of the road, we ventured southeast towards freedom. That freedom we were heading towards certainly was not the freedom of rest and relaxing, but merely the freedom of a third painful day on the road. We followed the road past an interesting farm, which I'll go into more detail about later, a stump hound and his stumpy farmlord much like wooden gargoyles, and up a large hill into a valley. It was at this point that we found an icecream vixen. She proceeded to pull out the smallest most fragile cones money could buy, and place upon them slightly larger than softball sized portions of icecream. The price? 2 dollars. Apparently either she was the daughter of a wealthy dirtmerchant, or the price of icecream goes down the closer you are to the cow. Back to the road we went, the blistering heat melting our icecream as quick as our pace was slow.
Now, this valley we were in was not to be followed of course, but instead we were to be removed from it the only way a valley knows how. Slowly and painfully. If the vikings had a giant in their mythology that made the valleys, it would have been a spiteful and cruel one, possibly named Cripplor or Blistar. We spent the next hour and a half hiking up quite possibly the longest hill ever made. A grade of highway just slight enough to allow vehicles to travel, but long enough that it required an Irving Gas station half way up, presumedly so people could make the full journey up the hill without a jerrycan in the trunk (This Irving also sold icecream of course. In fact, every store in the vicinity of this hill sold icecream).
So onward up the hill, where at the crest I discovered that some of my blisters were turning black. I assumed this was a bad colour for my skin to be, and resolved to continue on anyway. Jesse apparently had a rather painful invisible blister on the arch of his foot that neither of us could see(being invisible of course) but which caused him incredible agony. It was at this point that we passed by a rather disturbing location. Now i'm not saying that telepathy is real, or that a person can hypnotize you just by looking at you and willing you to do something. But as we passed by a farm that claimed to raise something or other, we saw some enormous things that can only be described as humongous dog kennels made of plastic. We were postulating what the heck these could be, when all of a sudden a small cow walks out of one and stares straight at Jesse!
Now like I said, I'm not sure if people can have weird mind powers or not. But this cow sure did. He put some sort of voodoo mind curse on Jesse with his starin, and didn't he fall over and start slipping down the hill towards the cow! We knew then that he was out to get us, either on account of we were on to the old country secret of dirt for money, or he wanted to eat us. Not sure which, but it was definately one of the two. After that fright we were quick on the trail again with a renewed desire to get out of these parts. Further ahead we found a series of relocated old settlement buildings for touristy attracting, and decided to pop in and visit. The staff of course weren't expecting anybody to walk in, so they didn't notice us as they were painting the picnic tables out back. We got a much better tour of the general store that way I think, since I doubt they would have let me try on all their fancy 100 year old top hats and of course the one that looked like a velvet crown of sorts. Felt very regal in that I did.
Jesse decided he needed to find a bathroom, so he frightened the two girls who were tending to the picnic tables(who were hearing noises from the house but were too scared to check it out). After that, we were finally in boringland. Hiking was becoming more and more painful, we still had only a rough idea of where we were, and the scenery was becoming less interesting.
One note though. For some reason, maybe somebody can explain this to me, but every home had other buildings surrounding them that looked like houses too. And I don't just mean their babybarns, which they all had of course, or even their rv's or barns. I mean things like their freakin giant garbage bins by the roadside were 10x10 miniature houses, with glass windows, a peaked roof, and even freaking curtains!!!! I just don't get it...... This trend of course disappeared when we got to civilization, leading me to believe that its likely more difficult to get the zoning permits to rent out a 3 bedroom trash bungalow in the city.
The next part of the journey was uneventful except for two rather amazing things. we discovered the nicest campsite we'd ever seen, and proceeded to nap there for a half hour or so, and we also discovered an awesome waterfall passing under the highway. Those two things really made a difference in how we were feeling coming into the home stretch towards Welsford, and combined with a fresh dose of crotchblow we were ready for anything (crotchblow is street for medicated no-rash powder for your...well, you get it). However, all was not won yet. Rain was upons, and we were without wet weather gear. It started sprinking, and then raining a little, back and forth making us very uneasy. For the next hour or so we become very damp, but finally, painfully, we arrived in Welsford. An Irving never looked so good. Bathroom breaks and snacks were had, and we sat for a moment, as my feet had decided to be several pounds of pissed off nervous system for the last few thousand steps.
We made the call to venture towards refuge at the Eagle Rock picnic table, which coincidentally, was no longer there. Unfortunately, despite the fact that its sheltered from the wind and rain, large trucks pass by all night long and have to slow down for a sharp turn, which means all night the jakebrakes toyed with our brains. Fortunately of course, the ground was flat, our spirits good, and sleep was readily available.
Oh, and before I forget, the farm i spoke of earlier. It was a pretty nondescript farm, except for one thing. 3 large 50 foot white tarps. These tarps were covered with tire halves. Not just chunks, but even halves, and LOTS of them. Under the tarps......dirt. I mean this farm still had a few cows out back, and a bit of old relatively unused farm equipment, some of which was for sale. But apparently this was just the legitimate front for the illegal manufactury of industrial grade dirt, the kind I suspect that fellow from Fredericton Junction must deal in. We're through the looking glass people.....
My typin hands are tired, so maybe tomorrow i'll give you the stunning conclusion to this adventure and I might even begin the tale of my equally amazing journey in fundy national park!
Edit: If anybody manages to actually read the whole damn thing, kudos to you! This is ridiculously long!