​There’s an exciting and simultaneously disorienting feeling when waking up in the back of an SUV in the middle of a massive and otherwise empty field in the Midwest. I packed up my camping gear into the appropriate storage locations and hit the road as the sun crested the hilly horizon, following along Route 200 for about ten miles to meet up with I-94, the road I’d ultimately be spending most of my day on. I stopped at a huge gas station to fill the tank, happily paying $2.23 a gallon at my first re-fuel in the United States in three week’s time, and grabbed a quick breakfast sandwich before hitting the road again. My goal for the day was to reach Minneapolis by dinner time, where I’d be spending the night with a long time family friend Greg and his fiancée. 
​

Merging eastbound onto I-94, I was happy to see that the highway was relatively empty, leaving me to move along without interruption from the GPS for the next 547 miles; I was relaxed and simply in the mood to cruise.  The road started fluctuating in elevation as I moved towards, and eventually into, North Dakota. I stopped for a bit at a scenic vista of the Little Missouri National Grasslands, listening to music with the windows down and taking a few photographs as other drivers stopped to do the same. Getting back onto I-94 I was almost immediately greeted with stones being thrown towards the Jeep by two large trailers full of construction gravel. Though I didn’t notice it at the time, one of the harshest impacts ended up creating a large crack in the lower passenger side of my windshield which would end up growing to nearly 18” long by the time I reached Boston a few days later. I sped by the trucks as quickly as possible, passing (and giggling) at the sign for Exit 7 to “Home On The Range, North Dakota”, swearing to myself I wouldn’t stop until I was an hour or two away and well out of the trucks proximity with hopes of never seeing them again. 
​

​ 
Lunch was later in the day, set up on the side of a long dirt road that paralleled miles and miles of sunflower fields. I made up a sandwich with meats and cheese we had left in the Grand Cherokee’s Dometic refrigerator and soaked in the sunshine before moving on, referencing the clock and the iPad’s GPS to see that I was doing well on time and mileage. I refueled again in the mid-afternoon and texted Greg to let him know when I’d be arriving in Minneapolis for dinner. Pulling into the city limits around 18h30, I stared out over a semi-familiar skyline and noticed an incredibly dirty hood in my peripheral vision. As I’m not the kind of traveler who would ever show up to a friends house with a vehicle covered in thousands upon thousands of miles of adventure and road dust, I quickly referenced the iPad and changed my routing to the nearest touch-less wash. After a thorough rinsing I covered the remaining distance to Greg and Carol’s home in Minnetonka, MN. We ate a delicious home cooked meal and stayed up late talking about travel and happenings in all of our lives.
 
Shortly before 23h00 I took a quick shower and climbed into their very comfy guest bed, exhausted after the 650-mile solo journey from a vacant field in Big Sky Country to the metropolitan suburbs of Minneapolis. Mile by mile, hour by hour, this adventure was coming closer to an end.
​

Our morning started slowly, meandering around the apartment continuing to pack the last of our clean laundry as I continued to make repeated trips to the elevator and down to the basement garage to access the Grand Cherokee. The drive to the airport, located across the city, would take around half an hour. With it technically being an international flight, we left about three hours before her departure to make sure there was enough time for security. Our time in the car was rather quiet as we were each off in our own worlds thinking about the miles and adventures behind us. We had officially traveled over 4,500 miles together since leaving Boston, crossing through five of the ten Canadian provinces, and visiting two of the most incredible national parks imaginable over the last three weeks. Our new REI Quarterdome 2 tent served us well, and the two-person Exped SynMat Duo air mattress was worth every single penny. Cumulatively we’d taken a few thousand photos, and would have these memories to look back on for the rest of our lives. Arriving at Calgary International, we parked the Jeep in the airport’s short-term parking garage and carried her luggage inside, finding the American check-in desk and getting her boarding passes set for her quick layover in Dallas.
 
I walked back out to the Jeep and sat in the driver’s seat in relative silence, unsure what to do with the situation. It was incredibly strange to be alone, to look at an empty passenger seat while my peripheral vision simultaneously recognized the missing luggage in the back seat. It took a little while for the realization that I now had nearly 3,000 miles to travel alone before reaching Boston. After a song or two had played on the radio I reached forward and started the engine, realizing that simply sitting there in the airport parking garage wasn’t getting me any closer to home. About a week prior I had begun thinking about my route home, things I’d like to see, and people I’d want to/be able to visit. I sent a few text messages and looked through possible map routes and ultimately decided I’d head back into the United States instead of getting back on the Trans-Canada Highway for days and traipsing back across the same Canadian provinces we had already come across. I’d follow Alberta Hwy 1 (technically the Trans-Canada) 200 miles from Calgary International to just east of Medicine Hat, AB, turning south on Highway 41 towards the Canadian/US border.
​

If you will, travel through time with me back to mid-August...

Our itinerary had us spending two nights in Calgary, with our actual tourist day slated for that Saturday. We woke up with the sun, partially due to habit of the past weeks of living in a tent, but more likely due to the floor to ceiling glass windows that our Airbnb was outfitted with flooding the room with light. While Dani showered I got our massive pile of laundry together, breaking it up into separate loads to fit inside the tiny washer and dryer we had in the unit. Once the first load was in and we looked presentable to the world, we wandered out the door and into the local urban neighborhood that surrounded the apartment building. Our first priority was to get caffeine in a cup for my girlfriend, at which point she became much more enthusiastic about the day. We found a really unique corner shop called Analog Coffee, a small establishment with white walls lined with vinyl records on shelves, mismatched photos, and a lively atmosphere created by the long lines of a younger crowd.
​