Coming Home

Every journey, no matter how brief, carries with it an element of stress. From planning to execution, there is an underlying stress of the possibility of something which could go wrong. In some ways this is true of everything new to us. As humans we think into the “what ifs” and worst case scenarios.

It’s a survival instinct to plan for all possible problems, and it helps us stay focused on the task at hand. It is easy to to give into that stress and become overwhelmed and end up with task paralysis. 

The thing about task paralysis, is that one frequently end up after the completion of the task saying “what was I worried about?”, or, “that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be”.

Returning to the camper from our extended time in Toronto was a task fraught with what ifs. Winter was harsh, with unusually high amounts of snow, and frigid temperatures. Being unable to see the camp site and gauge what had transpired in our absence was an underlying stress we’ve carried for all our time away.

Yesterday, we packed up the truck and headed out on the road late morning. Certainly a little later than we would have liked, but we didn’t have a scheduled appointment, and didn’t want to rush. And as we left the city behind, and the roads slowly became less and less busy, we settled into the rhythm of sights and sounds of our journey.

If you’ve never driven the route, the highway between Toronto and North Bay is separated two lanes in each direction, starting with 4 lanes in Toronto and then slowly whittling down to two the further away you get. It’s a stretch of road dotted with businesses and pockets of civilization. Some of them new and active, some ghosts of what they once were, abandoned and derelict.

You travel through areas like Bracebridge and Muskoka, where the rocks have been chiseled away to accommodate the road, and forests also surround the highway. Cottage country caters to those who have a get away, and the businesses reflect that.

When you travel with Remy, you have to take somewhat regular stops for bathroom breaks and to ensure he drinks water and eats. He is a very excitable passenger, and rarely rests at all during a long drive. We made a few stops on the first stretch, culminating in one just on the northern outskirts of North Bay.

From North Bay onwards, the road becomes a single lane in each direction, with occasional widening on alternate sides to two lanes for those in a hurry to pass slower traffic. The speed limit is also lower than the first stretch, although I have yet to actually encounter a single driver on this stretch who actually follows the speed limit. I wonder if it’s just a “guideline”.

The terrain changes significantly too. More trees, a lot of smaller lakes and rivers, seemingly endless hills and turns. If you take a moment to take it in, it can be quite breathtaking in places. Some amazing scenes of smaller lakes and cottages, less densely populated and ever more scenic. If you’re paying attention, there are a few tiny islands in the lakes you pass. Some with cabins, and one with nothing more than a flag pole flying the Canadian flag.

We arrived in Matheson after 7pm, and had a few stops to make before driving the familiar road to our property. We were feeling a sense of relief after almost 8 hours on the road, as well as a little trepidation of exactly what that state of things would be.

Fortunately, besides tall grass and some overgrowth, there isn’t much different from last year. We know we have our work cut out for us. Our woodshed will need repairs as the roof struggled under the weight of snow, and needs a serious overhaul. Grass need cutting, and the list continues. But the camper is intact, and now, some 24 hours later, thanks to Sandy’s magical cleaning skills, is livable, if cramped after being able to sprawl out in a house for months.

Our first night brought a heavy Thunderstorm, which Remy really didn’t cope with well. He never used to be scared of thunder, but a heavy storm last year when lightning struck really close to the camper, and now he is terrified of storms. It’s hard to comfort him, because you can’t explain it to him. But lots of love, cuddles and close contact and he manages.

Other than the storm, the peaceful tranquility and sounds of wind in the trees and bird song have an immediate effect on us. All the stresses of the journey are almost instantly washed away, and you can feel your blood pressure lowering.

Much as we wanted to get outside and take care of the jungle of growth around the camper today, mother nature sent rolling thunderstorms for most of the day starting early this morning. This meant indoor tasks and mainly cleaning and organizing. No matter how hard one tries to leave the camper clean and tidy when one leaves, it always seems a monumental task to get it back to livable and functional when you return after an absence.

I’m always in awe of how thorough Sandy is at cleaning and organisation in our small space. It takes a skillset I have never mastered quite like he has, and he attacks it with focus and dedication, and, given the right tools won’t stop until he has been made to do so, in this case by the dust buster running out of charge! (We’ll have to wait to charge it tomorrow when we hope the sun will be out again to charge up power stations).

And now as the day draws to a close, we sit and chat, listening to the forest. The trees swaying and rustling in the wind, and birds playing, chattering and calling out. The peacefulness is so good for the soul. I wish I could bottle it up, as I’m sure we’d make a fortune.

More to follow in the coming days and weeks, but for now, we’re home, and, despite the delays in getting here, at peace.