My alarm quietly went off as programmed at 01h45. I rolled over and silenced it, putting my headlamp on and unzipping the tent door despite the majority of my body begging me to go back to sleep. The moon shone brilliantly as I slid my shoes on, lazily stepping outside and fumbling to locate my camera’s tripod. I was immediately disappointed with the angle the moonlight was hitting Jasper’s mountains, but made a quick decision to change the angle of my intended shot for something facing more north. I framed the Big Dipper in my viewfinder, knowing that the nearby star Polaris would find the entire night sky circling around it. I adjusted my settings in accordance with the light I was working with, attached my remote shutter trigger, and went back to bed. Over the course of the next two and a half hours the camera would take roughly three hundred images of the night sky, hopefully leaving me with something beautiful to work with in the photo’s post-production phase; I was by no means let down. While I didn't attach the "star trails" image, I did include a single photo of the northern lights below.
 
Dani and I woke up at 08h00 to much colder temperatures than either of us had expected. With the day before peaking in the high 70s, I was a bit shocked to see the high 30s on my thermometer. She, a true Florida girl, was frigidly cold, lying in the sleeping bag with a long sleeve top, my REI quarter-zip fleece, and my Patagonia down jacket on, still on the verge of shivering. As the sunlight crept its way through the sky and began to cast shadows on the tent, I convinced Dani that we should get up and get a move on the day. We packed up lethargically, still in awe of the mountains that surrounded us, filtered another two liters of gorgeously clear and delicious mountain water, and headed up to the communal picnic tables to eat a small breakfast. We spoke again with Jessica and Jessica, the two women we had met the night before, and talked more about long distance trails, the National Parks we were visiting, and how it was absolutely necessary for Dani and myself to visit British Columbia for more exploring. By the time the two of us were on the trail it was nearly ten, but the opportunity to talk with two provincially-local hikers was unique, enlightening, and well worth the time.

 We climbed back out of the river basin as the air temperature began to rise, and I was immediately grateful to have shed all of my insulating layers before we left the campsite. I’ve found over the past few years of more aggressive hiking, mainly on Vermont’s Long Trail last winter, that keeping my SmartWool skull cap on and nearby is one of the easiest/fastest/lightest ways to adjust my internal temperature. It doesn’t involve taking my pack off, stuffs into my pocket, and has a surprising amount of sway in my overall warmth, while not being bulky or limiting my movement. I kept the hat on for the half hour or so before eventually taking it off as we began to climb out from the Athabasca River. While the majority was a gradual incline, there were a handful of sections that had rather steep ascents; we slowed on those parts, as the elevation (my maps say roughly 4,400’) were quite a bit over the sea-level elevations Dani is used to exercising at. Even with pacing ourselves and enjoying the morning hike, we were back into tourists and civilization by 11:30, packing up the car and heading up the road from the Sunwapta Falls trailhead to a small café for lunch.
 
After hot sandwiches, cold drinks, washing up, and a quick outfit change, we were turning out of the parking lot and making our way south on Alberta-93, or the “Icefields Parkway”. With over 200km until we reached Banff, the drive would take us on a winding route through some of the most impressive mountains and landscapes I’ve ever laid eyes on. The road changed elevation frequently, taking us from a just under a mile high to well over 6,500’. We followed different river systems, each seemingly more vibrant and turquoise than the last, and gawked out the window at the monstrous rock formations that make up the Canadian Rockies. As I drove, Dani used our dash-mounted iPad to reference GPS software for the heights of the peaks that surrounded us – many were well over 10,000 feet tall.  About an hour into our drive we arrived at the Columbia Icefield Discovery Center, a jam-packed tourist destination where we had the opportunity to walk up towards the ever-receeding Athabasca Glacier. I was not surprised to see that despite multiple signs warning of crevices people have fallen down and died, visitors were still stepping well beyond the marked boundaries, crossing over ropes to get a “better” view or just to take a selfie. We snapped a few photos, spent a moment or ten in awe of the scale of the glacier and the impact it has had on the surrounding area, and then walked back to the car to carry on with our drive.
 
The rest of our drive was continually gorgeous and relaxing as we made our way south. We’ve been making the most of my Sirius XM satellite radio, not having to worry about switching out iPods or CDs, and settled on “Siriusly Sinatra”, a station dedicated to Frank and the rest of the Rat Pack. The sun shone through the open sun roof and Dani took a brief nap as the car began a 2 mile climb to the Bow Summit parking lot for Peyto Lake. After a short hike up a paved path we found ourselves on a wooden deck overlooking Peyto itself; one of the most vibrant lakes in the Rockies, it boasts an incredible turquoise hue that stands out against blue skies and evergreen trees surrounding it. I snapped a few photos and we bathed in the sunlight before walking back down to the car for the final stretch to Banff.​

The next day was again relatively unplanned, however we had a new campsite reserved in the backcountry wilderness of Jasper National Park and would need to backpack a few miles into it before the sun went down. I was excited to get away from the heavily trafficked areas of the Park and actually spend a quiet night in the woods. We woke around 08h00, immediately getting to work as Dani made sausage breakfast sandwiches on the camp stove and I broke down camp. We had a few hours until we needed to be out of the campground to make way for the next people staying at our site, but each wanted a quick shower before we headed out into the world. Cleaning and packing up our cookware and utensils into their Pelican case, we made a brief stop at the campground showers and then turned back onto Alberta 93 North to head back towards downtown Jasper.
 
One of the points of attraction we had wanted to visit the day before was the Maligne Canyon, located just a few miles up Maligne Lake Road on the outskirts of town. The parking lot was absolutely packed when we arrived so we backtracked a few hundred yards to the same scenic overlook we had visited the day before and parked in the relatively empty lot. After a few minutes walk we arrived at the trailhead for the Maligne Canyon walk, a graded and paved trail that followed along the Maligne River as it downstream from Medicine Lake to the Athabasca River. Over the course of a few kilometers walk you can see 5 different waterfalls within the canyon walls, the water flowing nearly 160 feet below the spanning bridges at the canyon’s deepest point. We visited the first three waterfalls, sharing the limited space with countless other visitors before heading back to the car, turning our sights an hour south to Athabasca Falls where we’d stop for another quick visit to soak in the scenery.

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In the early afternoon we arrived at the Sunwapta Falls trailhead/parking lot where we finalized our gear packs for our overnight backpacking trip to the remote campsite along the Athabasca River. For the trip I chose to bring my Cold Cold World “Chaos” backpack, a 66L alpine mountaineering bag that I purchased for my Long Trail thru-hike attempt last winter. Made by hand in Jackson, New Hampshire, it’s as sturdy a bag as you could ever imagine, with a mono-tube design and 1.2 million attachment points for extra gear (i.e. snowshoes, crampons, ice axes, climbing rope, water bottles, etc) on the outside, making it a great option for a versatile backpack for the duration of our Canada adventure. I filled it up with most of our gear and food, packing Dani’s ~30L Mountainsmith backpack for our sleeping pad and her clothes for the overnight. It took about an hour to be ready to hike out, first passing on a bridge over Sunwapta Falls itself before carrying on down the Fortress Lake Trail. Our hike to the Big Bend backcountry campsite would cover 6.3km on a moderately wide trail, mostly downhill through endless pine forests. Dani had never been backpacking before so we stopped a few times to adjust the shoulder, waist, and sternum straps in an effort to make her more comfortable. The time and terrain passed quickly as the afternoon sun baked down on the woods, and within two hours we arrived at the Big Bend camp, nestled in along the indescribably blue Athabasca River.
 
Big Bend was comprised of four tent sites, two picnic tables, and a bear-bag hanging line to suspend food fifteen feet in the air overnight. The entire area was subject to panoramic views of the surrounding mountains, and the warm air and sunshine made for a gorgeous scene as we set up the tent alongside the river. We wandered around for a little with the cameras, and after checking with the five or six other backpackers staying at the site, I took a few minutes to fly the drone and capture the area from the a few hundred feet above. We cooked a pasta dinner at the picnic tables using the frigidly cold glacier river from the Athabasca River that I had filtered with the same Sawyer Squeeze I carried for all 2,200 miles on the A.T. three years prior. We made friends with Jessica and Jessica, two other hikers from the Alberta area who were out for the weekend, talking for an hour or so about hiking and the vast beauty of the National Parks as the sun set and cast warm light on the glacially capped peaks to the south.
 
Rinsing out our dishes and hanging the food bag on the bear line, we sat on a log bench by the river and watched the water flow by without much conversation between us, simply enjoying the serenity of the mountains around us. Retiring to bed around 21h30, I set my phone’s alarm for shortly after midnight in hopes of waking up and capturing photos of the stars overhead in the night sky. After a busy day and great hike in on the Fortress Lake Trail, we fell fast asleep to the white noise of the Athabasca River rushing by, our short time in Jasper having already seemed to desensitize us to the bright glow of the sky in the late hours of the evening.

​Thunderstorms had started late and carried on throughout the night, with heavy rain falling intermittently through the late morning hours. We woke up around 07h30, later than the last few days, and discussed what we each had in mind for the day. We settled on starting at the campground showers to rinse off the long day before spend on the road, and then figured we would drive into downtown Jasper to find a coffee shop and get some work done while the rain clouds (hopefully) blew away with the wind. It was a brisk 48 degrees when I got out of the tent, and once I was showered I re-dressed in a few layers with a poly ¼-zip fleece and a wind/rain shell over top. Dani had even more layers than I, and topped them off with a SmartWool puffy polyester jacket. Given that she’s a Floridian, I was quite proud to see her variety of newly acquired outdoor hiking apparel to choose from given the fluctuation of weather.
 
Because of the duration of time we’re actually spending in Jasper, only three full days, it was important to both of us to do and see as much as we can. Dani had mentioned the long drive up to Maligne Lake, and we used the limited Internet I was able to squeeze out of the iPad and coffee shop Wi-Fi to figure out the route. Piling into the Jeep around 11h00 we turned east, back the way we came the night before, and made a quick turn-off for the Maligne Lake road. A brief stop a few miles up gave us a stunning view of Jasper from a rocky overlook, but the crowded parking lots and lack of phenomenal weather pushed us back towards the car and further up the road. After a half hour of winding switchbacks through tall pine tree forests we arrived at the famous “disappearing” Medicine Lake. A shallow 3.5 mile long body of water, it’s known for disappearing in the autumn and winter seasons due to its inability to retain water as it flows at a weaker rate from the glacial lakes upstream. When we arrived the small parking lot was half-full, and a light rain was falling outside. We took a few photos of the large body of water, but the true color it’s known for was lacking due to the clouds overhead. As the rain got heavier I packed up my camera gear and we continued further up the mountain towards Maligne Lake. It was at one point along the next section of road that Dani commented on the fact that her ears were popping, and after querying the iPad’s GPS we noted it was the first time she had ever been over 5,000’ elevation outside of an airplane. I thought to myself that the new and unique experiences of our trip seemed to be endless.
 

Arriving at Maligne shortly after 13h00 I was shocked to see that, accurate to the GPS prediction, it had actually taken us nearly two hours to make the 50km drive. Located at the top of a dead-end road was the Maligne Lake visitor center, historic canoe boathouse, and the Maligne Lake cruise to the world famous Spirit Island. We explored the visitor center and got an idea of the cost for the boat ride, but were initially turned away by the $100/per person rate. Instead of dishing the money out we followed a trail for a few miles that meandered around the lake, soaking in the beauty and serenity of the mountains. As we walked the clouds began lifting, causing us to debate our decision to skip the boat ride, and ultimately turning us back to try and get tickets for the last cruise of the day. We were able to secure “cheaper” tickets for $76 each for the 15h00 boat, giving us about half an hour to eat a quick lunch before our trip.
 
The cruise across Maligne Lake would take us nearly twenty miles southeast across the second largest glacially fed lake in the world. We climbed onto the motor-powered boat with about 30 other visitors and took our seats while the tour guide introduced herself and got us acquainted with the itinerary of the tour. We’d cross the lake as she narrated our surroundings, then dock near the notable Spirit Island where we’d have fifteen or so minutes to explore and take pictures. I spent most of the ride across the lake on the back deck of the boat taking photos, listening in to the stories of the mountain ranges and glaciers towering over both sides of Maligne’s shores. As we neared the opposite side of the lake the sun began shining through dispersing clouds, and by the time we arrived at the quiet dock near Spirit Island it was almost a beautiful day outside. I must have taken five hundred photos in the short time we were there, doing my best to capture the island from any angle I could, but still standing in silence with Dani truly appreciating the beauty of this tiny peninsula-like island in the middle of the turquoise water backed up against gigantic mountain ranges. We took the half-hour boat ride back to the visitor center, both of us on the back deck of the boat this time, watching the world go by and endlessly appreciating where we were.
 
The drive back to Jasper passed quickly, and we spent the late afternoon walking around town popping in and out of stores and picking up a few groceries from two stores that were gluten-free friendly. At the latter of the grocery stores I asked the checkout clerk where his favorite spot to watch sunset from was and he pointed us towards Old Fort Point, an elevated vista on the other side of the Athabasca River. We drove to the Old Fort Point parking lot and cooked a small salad and pasta dinner, then hiked for twenty or so minutes up to the top of a barren and windy hill to watch the sun set over Jasper. While the sunset itself was nothing spectacular, the elevated view really gave me a greater appreciation for the town and just how nestled into the mountains it really is. We returned to the campground and climbed into bed around 22h00 under skies that were still as bright as day, but after a long day of exploring the Park it was easier than I ever would have guessed to fall soundly asleep for the night. ​
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​Despite the quiet house when we fell asleep, I was woken up throughout the night from heavy footsteps upstairs. The Airbnb’s owner had warned us that they had a newborn baby and that crying might be heard, but the creaking floorboards were the breaking point. I barely slept that night, and finally got out of bed around 06h00 as baby's older sibling was running around and the ceiling felt like it was going to collapse on top of us. We packed up what gear remained, making a half dozen trips to and from the car carrying our backpacks, cookware, washed camping gear, and bags of food. I arranged everything inside the Jeep as Dani did a last once-over throughout the apartment to verify we had everything, then we got into the Jeep and began the days drive to Jasper National Park. She noticed a few minutes later that we weren’t heading to the highway, and upon inquiry was delighted when I informed her I had found her a Starbucks in downtown Saskatoon to get coffee at before we hit the road. Ten minutes later with some fun named and delicious smelling beverage in her hand, we turned onto the Trans-Canada Highway to begin the 535 mile haul to Jasper, Alberta.
 
The majority of the morning was comprised of long, straight highway through farming fields. We paralleled seemingly endless train tracks, passing small towns with large silos and dozens of pick-up trucks haphazardly parked in gigantic dirt lots. The “towns” could be seen from miles away as we approached, then seemed to pass in the blink of an eye before the road opened up widely again and we repeated the long approach to another arrangement of silos in the distance; it was like driving on Groundhog’s Day, though Bill Murray didn’t join us. Shortly after noon we drove into Lloydminster, a city with the unique geographical honor of straddling the Saskatchewan/Alberta provincial border. We took a quick photo at the wood-carved “Welcome to Alberta” sign on the side of the road and carried on towards our next major city, Edmunton. It’d take us another two and a half hours to get there, during which Dani drove and I took a much-needed nap. She woke me up as we got to the outskirts of Edmunton, knowing that I had wanted to find a carwash before we hit Jasper. I took some time with the dash-mounted iPad to find a touchless one along our route, and changed the navigation to bring us there. After 1,925 miles since the last carwash, I felt the Jeep needed to look “pretty” as we rolled into the Canadian Rockies. With a half-dozen sponsors with products on the Grand Cherokee and living in the social-media age, it was important to me that photographs taken of it in the majestic mountains have that rugged look, but also appear like something of a promotion for Jeep and the companies that have so graciously worked with me throughout the months of owning it. We filled the gas tank and ran it through the deluxe carwash then turned our attention completely to the road ahead, passing under a highway sign denoting Jasper, our distance from our ultimate destination diminishing by the mile.
 
In the early evening we pulled off the Trans-Canada Highway onto a small dirt road alongside a field, parking on a grassy section and setting up our cooking table and stove. We cooked dinner in the sunlight and sat in our camping chairs, watching the highway traffic fly by a hundred or so feet away. We cleaned the dishes and packed up camp, Dani picking a flower from the roadside as she hopped in the Jeep. A mere half hour later we began seeing the silhouettes of the Canadian Rockies standing tall over the road we traversed. Soon enough we were seeing young Elk standing on the side of the road, a dozen cars parked haphazardly in the brake-down lanes as people flooded the road taking photographs. I slowed down to be cautious, paused briefly to snap a photo out the window, and moved on towards the park’s east entrance. Greeted by a friendly Park Ranger, I showed him our Canadian Parks pass, something I got for free from the National Parks Service in celebration of their 150th anniversary. He pointed out how to get to our campground, wished us a good stay, and moved us along. We drove through the small but bustling town of Jasper, turning south on Canada Highway 93 and pulling off to Whistler’s Campground in search of site 25-J.
 
It took about twenty minutes to get to the back side of the campground and find our exact spot. We hopped out to figured out where the tent would best go, then backed the Jeep into place and emptied the Pelican storage cases to start building camp. By the time we had our teeth brushed and were ready for bed it was after 23h00, though the sky left me assuming otherwise. It was 45 minutes before midnight and the glow from the sky above was bright enough to have read a book inside the tent. It was interesting for me to realize that this was the furthest north I had ever been on our continent. We had no defined plans for the next day, instead wanting to figure it out as we went; it was easy to fall asleep quickly, grateful for having completed without incident our 2,400 mile drive to the world-famous Jasper National Park. I was excited for what adventure the following days would bring.

​We woke up late the next morning, likely due to the lack of sunlight in the room versus the tents ability to glow in the early morning hours. I took another quick shower, savoring the opportunity to stand under hot water, and nearly died (okay, not really) when I attempted to adjust the temperature. Turning the dial towards what I thought was a colder setting, the water suddenly was boiling hot; I tried to hop out of the way of the stream and ended up slipping, reaching for the nearest thing to break my fall and tearing the entire shower curtain off the rod. It was a life-threatening morning. By the time we were packed up it was 09h00, and Dani was excited that we had found a Starbucks nearby to the Airbnb. We stopped in for an hour or so, using the Wi-Fi so we could both work while she drank her coffee and I ate a breakfast sandwich. We had about ¼ tank of gas left, but I decided upon our departure that I would rather wait until we weren’t in the heart of Winnipeg to refuel.
 
Before long the city disappeared in our rear view mirror and we were back in the 110km/hr, vastly open region of the Trans-Canada Highway. With a mere 482 miles northwest to Saskatoon, it honestly felt like today would be a “short” day in comparison to our recent long hauls. An hour or so outside of the city I pulled into a Petro-Canada gas station on the side of the highway as a light rain began to fall. It continued for the next few hours, making the monotonous plains of western Manitoba a little more interesting, the typically vibrant yellow hay fields seeming muted against the grey skies overhead. Our scarce road signs began noting that Saskatchewan was quickly approaching, and after taking a few minutes break to fly the drone on an empty dirt farm road we crossed into our third Canadian province shortly before 13h00. Within the hour the clouds broke up and revealed the blue skies we had become used to. There was a minor scare in the late afternoon that my wallet may have fallen out at a gas station rest-stop two hours behind us, but we eventually learned that there was a “secret” part of the Jeep’s dashboard storage compartment that is relatively hidden unless you’re desperately crawling around in the back seat. I maintained a relative calm during the 45-minute search, emptying out the entire contents of the Jeep and slowly pacing in the restaurant parking lot. Eventually Dani noticed my wallet in this little storage area, and all became right with the world again after a few deep breaths and a little swig of whiskey.
 
She drove the remainder of the day to Saskatoon, delivering us to a grocery store in the city to pick up final items before reaching Jasper the next evening. We were again staying in a cheap Airbnb, owned by a young couple with a new baby. Their entire basement had been newly redone as an in-law apartment and was ours for the mere price of $34 a night. Dani cooked us a delicious dinner with grilled seasoned chicken, rice, and broccoli, while I got to work doing laundry and drying our camping gear, still damp from the torrential rain in Longlac two nights prior. We drank some local hard ciders while folding laundry and reviewing photos from the QB-5 portion of our trip as I did my best to get some writing done. Sharing this adventure with someone, while an exceptionally nice change to my usual solo-ness, made it much harder to get my usual blogging done at the end of each day. On average it takes me about an hour to write one of these posts, edit the photos, and prep it for publication. She’s been incredibly helpful in driving for a while each day to let me write and edit photos, but I was still way behind. Alas, not being out on this adventure alone was worth any tradeoff I can think of.
 
The next morning we would begin our final haul to Jasper, Alberta, continuing a manageable 535 miles on our northwest trajectory and reaching the first of the two national parks on our itinerary before the sun set on the Canadian Rockies.
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​Waking early to a dreary sky, I was disappointed to see the tent had not handled the excessive amount of precipitation as well as I had hoped. As Dani rolled up the sleeping pad and bag, I prepped our gear inside the Jeep for us to quickly pack it up. We looked around at the empty “campground” and drove away slowly, headed a short ways to the only building on site that I had read housed free showers. Sure enough the doors were unlocked and we were each able to rinse off before beginning another long day on the road. We hit the road at 08h00, turning back onto the Trans-Canada Highway and quickly searching Google on the iPad to find the nearest gas station. The Jeep’s digital display showed 15 miles to empty, eventually dropping to “Low Range” on the gas gauge hit the bottom of its scale; we were still 5 miles from the nearest fuel supply. In what was probably the most nerve-wracking moment for me during our trip, the GPS announced our arrival at the gas station as we arrived at an empty field… no fuel to be found. Saying a quick prayer in my head we continued on, eventually finding the gas station a mile down the road. We paid a shocking 119 cents per liter, the most we would on our entire journey, and the Jeep took an impressive and scary 23.5 gallons in the 24 gallon tank.
 
After fueling up and carrying on, our scenery changed a bit to include a lot more lakes and higher-rising rock mountains. The road carved through the country as we moved further through the western side of Ontario, and the clouds from the storms the night before lingered overhead. After almost two hours we started seeing signs for a visitor center at a nearby mine, thinking it’d be a good rest stop as Dani had never seen one before. We hopped off the highway and took a gravel road another 15km before arriving at the main building for the Amethyst Mine Panorama. They offered a tour of the 1,100 foot long mine, having been in continuous production since 1965, but where we had neither the time or interest in spending the money to walk through a field of rock, we politely asked to go peer over the railing into the mine itself and made a quick return to the Jeep to carry on with our journey. Before pulling out of the parking lot we looked at the maps and choose the large city of Thunder Bay, Ontario, as the appropriate destination for our upcoming lunch.
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As the highway descended from higher elevations we began seeing the vast waters of Lake Superior to the south of us. Signs for Thunder Bay began popping up, and we chose a random exit to find a restroom and a place to cook lunch. We found a McDonalds with a nearby city park, and in short order were set up with our grill and cooking pasta with chicken sausage to strange glances from onlookers. We were exceptionally efficient, in and out of Thunder Bay in under an hour with our sights set on making it to Winnipeg before the sun was too low on the horizon. It took a while to get out of the more pedestrian roads of Thunder Bay before the Trans-Canada Highway again opened up to the two-lane road we had become familiar with. In the early afternoon we passed by a sign marking the Arctic Watershed, the geographic point where all streams flow north to the Arctic Ocean. I snapped a quick photo of the Jeep with the sign, and we carried on as Dani drifted to sleep in the passenger seat and I quietly listened to a 40s swing channel on the satellite radio, tapping my fingers to the beat as the Jeep’s tires endlessly rotated on the well paved road beneath them.
 
We crossed out of Ontario and into Manitoba around 18h30 with only 150km left until we arrived in Winnipeg. I drove alongside a slowing trail for the last few miles before entering the city proper, and Dani turned her attention towards finding us somewhere to eat. Not having an interest in cooking another meal at the end of the long day we stopped at an Applebees for a quick dinner only a few miles away from where we would spend the night. I had found an Airbnb for us nearby to the Trans-Canada Highway for a mere $30, which bought us a large in-law apartment in the basement of the young family’s house. We arrived and unloaded the minimal but necessary gear, took quick showers, washed our pots and pans from lunch, and climbed into bed. We had covered 988km, or 614 miles, and were celebrating that the next day’s distance would only be 80% of that, a “relaxing” day, if you will. We were over a thousand miles from Ottawa with a thousand left to go; our eyes, hearts, and imaginations were set on Jasper, and we couldn’t get there fast enough. 
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After leaving Ottawa on Sunday the 30th we hopped onto the Trans-Canada Highway and began our 2,400 mile drive to Jasper National Park in Alberta. I had spent the last few months simultaneously planning our National Parks trip alongside the QB-5 adventure, and though I didn’t want to rush things, we absolutely had a tight itinerary for driving. Taking things one step at a time, we had a 2.5 hour drive to Mackey, Ontario, where I had reserved us an Airbnb. Our first hour on the road painted a vivid picture of what the rest of our journey would be like: an exceptionally well paved road only two lanes wide, pine trees that stretched forever in either direction, and oncoming cars just feet away traveling at an equal 100 kilometers per hour. I was initially uncomfortable with this, thinking of a tired driver in the other lane veering just a few feet and crashing into us with an immense amount of force, but eventually got used to it and kept razor sharp focus on the road ahead as we traveled along.
 
As darkness set on Ontario at the same late hour as we had been experiencing with the Jeep club, the dashboard mounted iPad spoke up and announced we were nearing the campground the Airbnb would be located at. For those unfamiliar with the company/trend, Airbnb is an online-based “hotel” network where people list spare bedrooms or even entire houses for others to rent for a night, week, or even month. Prices range depending on where you are in the world and how nice the space is, but I have had great success using the platform in the past to book places to stay, and Dani and I agreed it would work well for the trip. For a mere $37 we had a small cabin to ourselves, nestled at the back of a popular campground along a wide river just off the highway in Mackey. I met our host, April, at the campground office and she gave us the key for the one-room cottage we’d be staying in. After well deserved showers we quickly fell asleep, a small desk fan providing white noise and a bit of air movement throughout the night.

We woke up the next morning after sleeping in a bit, packing up our stuff and eating a small breakfast before meeting April at the main office. In messaging her prior to our trip she had volunteered to do a load of laundry for us for an agreeable $10, which we discovered she had even folded up for us before handing it back in a large trash bag. Thanking her endlessly we hopped back in the Jeep and began our 580 mile drive (I used miles in my pre-production planning, and maintained it as we travelled) to Longlac, Ontario where we would spend Monday night. The Trans-Canada Highway continued to be the same layout as the day before, though we faced more hilly terrain as we moved westward throughout the day. We stopped for gas around 11h30, getting more accustomed to recognizing “good” prices while converting liters to gallons and CAD to USD all at the same time. Ontario seemed to have decent prices, usually around 88 cents per liter. As our small breakfasts wore off I put my trusty navigator in charge of finding us a lunch restaurant, looking at the maps and picking the city of North Bay as our ideal lunch location. She called around to a few places that Google listed as gluten friendly, and we eventually settled on Urban Cafe as our restaurant of choice. Pulling into North Bay we refueled for the first time since early the day before, and got the Jeep a well deserved car wash to rid it of the mud that was caked onto all of its surfaces.
 
After an incredibly delicious soup and sandwiches lunch we hopped back in the car and stopped by Wal-Mart to resupply some of our more perishable foods, picking up veggies and fruits to store in the fridge as future snack items. At that point it was nearly 13h00 and we had another 497 miles on the Trans-Canada Highway until we reached our destination for the night. We carried on for hours, watching the sun slowly sink in the vast Canadian sky, making a few stops for bathroom breaks as we went along. Darkness set on us at 21h00 as we travelled along Highway 11, and with the abundant lack of other vehicles I turned on the 30” Black Oak LED bar mounted on the Grand Cherokee’s roof. Lighting up the road for almost a mile ahead, it was an immense contributor to my comfort level as we navigated winding roads over countless hills. A heavy rain began as we carried on into the night, and I began to get nervous as the gas needle gradually sank below half a tank. We drove late into the night, getting closer and closer to lightning and storm clouds ahead of us, eventually passing over the last of the small mountains and descending into Longlac, arriving with just 10 miles of fuel left in the gas tank. All in all we had gone over two and a half hours without seeing a town, a street light, or any kind of fuel station; I cannot convey how glad I was that we had made it without running out of gas. We scoped out a remote campsite that had been listed on iOverlander.com, and after deeming it suitable I rushed out into the rain to set up our tent as Dani got the inside of the Jeep organized and ready for bed.
 
We climbed into the tent and laid down to the sound of heavy rain falling on the tent fly and loud cracks of thunder echoing through the area, shaking the ground beneath us. A few times a minute cracks of lighting would illuminate the entire sky, and for a moment the inside of the tent was as bright as daylight. Despite the sensory overload, we fell asleep quickly after a long day of travel, resting up before continuing on to Winnipeg when the sun again crested the horizon. ​

Looking back, the city was a bad idea with the group size we had. My hope had been that we would have a final dinner as a big group before parting ways, but the parking situation was tough on the beautiful Sunday afternoon with such a large group and two trailers being towed. We managed to find a lot to accommodate all of us, but by that point frustration level amongst all of us had begun to grow. We tried to find a restaurant that would seat us all, and when we sat down at the only one that could, the waiter informed us that they had a limited menu… not at all helpful to a large group with some dietary restrictions. It was at this point that we all disassembled in a sort of disappointing fashion, everyone heading off in their own way to grab a bite to eat in whatever groups naturally formed. Dani and I ate on the outside deck of an Irish pub, enjoying our meal and paying the tab as the rest of the group drove off to the campsite I had arranged for them further east.  We waved goodbye as they drove off, and chimed in one last time on the radio before they were out of range.
 
Dani turned the CB radio off as we merged onto the Trans-Canada Highway headed west, beginning our 2,375 mile drive to Jasper National Park in Alberta’s Canadian Rockies. It had been a great start to our trip, and I could only hope that the weeks to come would follow suit.
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“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.”― Jack Kerouac
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I was surprised to hear how early people were up and milling about in camp, but I think the communal message the night before of the necessity of being on the road early and staying focused throughout the day resonated with the group. I struck the tent as Dani put our gear away in the Jeep, and the smell of breakfast wafted through the air from Jenny and Shayna’s cooking. We dined on a kind of “meat-lover’s” scrambled eggs, sitting between two picnic tables in relative silence as everyone stuffed their faces; the deliciousness of the meals those two prepared cannot be understated.
 
We gathered down by the campground’s boat docks at 09h00 exactly, taking a quick group photo after Rob finished up cutting his Tacoma’s tail-pipe off with a Sawzall to prevent it from banging around after a weld had broken. Right off the bat we hopped back on our route, following it for a few miles before making a right turn to circumvent a few miles of trail riding. Easy gravel roads took us up and over a few hills, past farm fields and expansive valleys as CB chatter narrated our morning. Bob and I took turns in the lead position as we were the only two running GPS that wanted to be up front (in fairness, Brendan had the navigation up but usually likes to be the last vehicle in line). We strolled through a small lakeside town an hour and a half into our ride, then turned off the established roads in favor of the tighter, unmaintained roads that make our trips exciting. In single-file fashion our caravan rolled through the woods, suspensions continually articulating over uneven terrain, calling out to Brendan in the back to make sure he hadn’t gotten lost in our cloud of dust.
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After setting up camp in our three respective sites, Jenny + Shaun, Brendan, and Andrew in one, Shayna + Topher, Dani + myself in between, and Rob + Mandy, Bob + Jessica in the last, the group dispersed for visits to the lake, quick naps, and a run to the liquor store. Topher and I took the Grand Cherokee down the road to the store for some local cider and beer, where they informed us that the nearest town that sold alcohol was in fact Barry’s Bay, a mere 30 minute drive almost all the way back to where we started our day. By the time we went, bought drinks, got ice, and returned to the campsite, Shayna and Dani were concerned we had either fell through a wormhole or died trying to complete our supply run; thankfully neither was the case. 
 
The group gathered in our campsite as dinner was cooking, drinks opened and laughter frequent as we recounted our day and joked about how frustrating the parking situation was. To our advantage the overflow lots were completely full, so we had temporarily won the ability to keep all 7 vehicles at our campsites. As the night went on and we chowed down on yet another amazing dinner, our laughter got louder as we watched Jenny get in a dance competition with Bob’s sons Claude and Ben where she proceeded to get her butt handed to her. Just before the sun set two Park rangers came by on bicycles and inquired as to whether or not our extra vehicles were moving. Shaun, likely the least serious public relations representative our group has, took the lead in informing them of the full overflow lots and our alcohol consumption. He offered to have Ben and Claude drive the cars over (ages 3 and 5) to which the rangers told us to leave them parked for the night. Overland Group – 1 , Bonnechere Bicycle Cops-0.
 
I disappeared an hour or so later for a quick shower, and meandered back to the campsite as Shaun, Brendan, and Andrew arrived from another stroll to the beach. It was late and nobody was of sober mind, so after we had one last hurrah for winning the parking stand-off, each of us retired to our respective living quarters for the night. As a whole the day had gone much better than the one before; there was far less stress, we arrived at the campsite early, and everyone had a chance to relax. I wish we’d known going into this trip that even shorter days were necessary to allow for more things like time at the park and sitting by the lake, but it’s absolutely something we’ll account for even more of next time around. As I learned quite literally during my visit to Italy this past May, Rome wasn’t built in a year. ​

I can’t begin to describe how much I’ve missed sleeping in a tent. To make things easier on Dani and I sharing the space inside the Quarter-dome 2, I purchased an Exped Synmat Duo, a niche-market sleeping pad that has two separately inflatable sleeping pads in one unit. We can each have our own firmness in the mattress, but carry only one piece of gear to do so, and the “heavy” model boasts a weight of only 3 pounds – aka light enough to take backpacking on trips where she and I are sharing weight. Highly recommend looking into this if you’re a 2-person hiking/backpacking team and are looking for a solution to saving some space in the tent and your backpacks.
 
My eyes first opened around 06h30 to hear the sounds of people stirring about in the campfire/stove area our group had taken. I changed into fresh clothes and meandered up to find our amazing cooks had heated up the homemade egg, cheese, and sausage sandwiches they had prepared for breakfast. Finishing my sandwich, I went back to break down our tent as Dani ate. Packing up the gear into their respective Pelican-brand cases in the back of the Jeep, I tightened the ratchet straps to secure the cases to the rear storage deck that I built for this purpose exactly. As other families packed up as well I put the Mavic Pro drone up in the air, flying it around and recording video of the surrounding farmlands and our campsite to pass time until we departed for the Canadian border.
 
Turning onto NY-37, we cruised past a half-dozen Amish horse and carriages as we made our way towards the town of Ogdenburg where we would take the Ogdensburg-Prescott International Bridge to Canada. We made pit-stops at the local Wal-Mart and a gas station, making sure that everyone had full tanks of gas and all the supplies they needed before we left the country. We crossed over the St. Lawrence River at 10h30 and promptly found ourselves in front of the Canadian customs/immigration gates. There was a long line of cars and tractor-trailers in front of us, and our radio-talk turned to that of taking a group photo in front of the Welcome to Canada sign. We hopped out quickly and arranged ourselves as I set my tripod up, snapping a single photo and getting back into the car right about the time that border patrol officers approached me and threatened us with arrest for exiting our cars. Thankfully all went well, and after 10 minutes and a quick apology, we were at the starting coordinates for our QB-5 route.
 
We rolled off of pavement and onto a narrow dirt road that seemed to stretch forever. I’m unsure if this was once a railroad track, but in the United States it easily would have been converted to a bicycle path. We drove along at a comfortable pace, splashing through large puddles of water some twenty feet long. The sun shone down and everyone was in great moods as the journey began. We followed the GPS route with Dani and I leading, passing by bogs, crossing narrow bridges over gorgeous blue rivers, and through thick forests. I took advantage of a great moment and flew my Mavic drone up over the line of vehicles, capturing some photos and video footage of the scenery from an otherwise unattainable angle. After an hour or so we turned onto a string of lose gravel roads, making better time on our way to Merrickville, Ontario where we would stop for lunch.
 
Realizing we were a bit behind and had a lot of driving left to do to make it to our campsite, we made lunch a short 45-minute endeavor, meeting back at the rigs and debating our next move. After referencing the maps and some discussion with Bob we decided to take Canada’s route 7 and 43, part of the Trans-Canada Highway, and cut out a part of our off-roading for the day. The roads were well paved and hilly, winding through the countryside and passing by many small towns with barns and silos surrounded by acres of fields. After an hour or so of 50 km/h driving we took a right turn that planted us back on our original trail route, arriving just a few minutes later at the Ompah General Store where fuel was available from three above ground tanks. The group took the opportunity to use the bathroom, then headed onward down dirt trails over power-lines and through heavily wooded forests, crossing into Ontario’s Frontenac Wilderness. This 20+ mile stretch would have us driving at varied speeds, sometimes as slow as 3 or 4 miles per hour. There were some more difficult sections which truly required 4-wheel drive to be engaged, but the majority was common and enjoyable worn out dirt roads that required some intricate negotiation of the vehicles through the woods.
 
Around 18h30 we passed Granite Lake campground, the location we initially were going to spend the night before finding out they wouldn’t have room for a group of our size. At this point there was some tension in the group – we had been driving for the better part of 10 hours and people just wanted to be at our destination and set up camp for the night. The time following our departure from Granite Lake was much different from the driving prior; the trip took on a sort of “Rally-X” feeling, with us driving the dirt roads at 25+ km/h, using our off-roading experience to judge the terrain in front of us and navigate the road accordingly. This went phenomenally well until I slammed on my brakes upon seeing a hazard sign placed in the middle of the road. As it turns out, a small bridge had collapsed and hadn’t yet been replaced; to continue on with the trail we had to get each vehicle truck down a steep embankment, across a 2’ deep and actively flowing river, then back up the bank on the other side. I went first, and despite looks on Dani’s face, was thrilled to see that the Grand Cherokee Trailhawk performed exactly as I had hoped and expected.
 
We arrived at the Black Donald Mines campground shortly after 20h00, turning countless heads as our convoy of mud-covered Jeeps and the Toyota pulled into the parking lot to sign in. Jenny and I had done the legwork to get the sleeping arrangements set for the trip, so we knew already that we had campsites #40-41 at Black Donald. The two sites made up one large open field with two fire pits, plenty to park 7 vehicles and set up two trailers with roof-mounted tents. It took a few tries to figure out how we would arrange ourselves, but once we were set tents went up seamlessly and dinner was practically finished being cooked. We had “Taco Tuesday” (despite it being a Friday night) and everyone was thoroughly full by the time we started washing dishes.
 
A campfire was blazing as the sunlight disappeared, the sky above losing its blue hue to the darkness of the night. Ciders, homebrews, craft beers, and whiskey were passed around as everyone talked and told stories. We laughed as Jenny tried to get Shaun to dance with her, Rod Stewart playing on someone’s iPhone as a tribute to them celebrating their 10th wedding anniversary that night. A few of us made use of the campground’s hot showers before bed, with the rest of the group planning to do so the next morning before we departed.
 
The last thing we did that night was decide to have a “driver’s meeting” the next morning where the driver of each vehicle got together and talked about the days itinerary; this was likely something that we should have done each morning, but I think will absolutely be a staple in our adventures going forward. There had been an inadvertent lack of communication during the day that put us behind schedule and late to camp that we were going to try and avoid going forward, so we would test this out and see if improvements were made as a whole.
 
All in all, day two wasn’t a failure by any means; as a group we reached our destination, faced some challenges to overcome throughout the drive from Theresa, NY, and still ended the day with smiles on our faces and warm food in our stomachs. There was a lot of anticipation for the next day to see how things would improve, and everyone slept soundly under a vastly starry sky.

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