Road book: chap.4

Frozen Colombia.

Slowly waking up in the motel room’s warmth, I can enjoy a “lazy” morning that doesn’t need any rush because of some weak car sleeping conditions, I can finish some chores before hiting my paved four wheels. My Irish car-pool companion and I leave Teslin in the snow on a tricky road, yesterday landscape disappeared and music sings in our ears. Time is flying so slowly as the road is monotonically white and cloudy, flirting between Yukon and British Columbia. Scenery is stolen from our eyes. After we almost died because of some black ice, because of some unpredictable changing path, we stop at Watson Lake whose name is lying since the lake is invisible, replaced by a signs forest, tasteless tourist attraction for my reckless eyes.
Clouds layer gets thinner later, from time to time, offering some pieces of the landscape even though they are missing some depth. Thus, my enthusiasm is blown by a tiny unknown canyon, quilted with snow, breaking in the blue river. Thus, my impetus pinks again with my two first bisons along the road, soon followed by a dozen more.
After that, landscapes goes back to fall, we run after Coal River or Liar River, or maybe both, they might have blended into each other… And their grey drawing in dug rocks amazes me. We finally reach Liard Hot Springs, our day’s goal, too expensive for accommodations, but a perfect warmth for my tired heart. My joy is jeopardized by my Irish ring turning to copper though. Maybe forever. Like a bad omen. Like a broken heart.
Our day turns to be never ending because we need a better option to sleep further down the road. I therefore drive longer than I wished, meeting on the way caribous, so similar to Santa’s reindeer, briefly enjoying stunning twilight on Muncho Lake where we stop for the night. Our long day ends in a mountain chalet’s fleeting warmth. Today, I go back to car’s cold because I can’t afford to be rich anymore. I am exhausted and can’t utterly unleash the poetry of what I admired today.
I can’t wait for tomorrow, Muncho Lake truly stunned me and I want more before falling down North Canadian Rockies.

Dawn awakes with almost the same caribous as yesterday, in Muncho Lake’s amazed haze. I keep wandering throughout the famous Alcan Highway, getting closer to my Western Canada, riding my beautiful four wheels purchase, and I get my first glance on the Rockies. Not exactly though, since I got a glimpse from the sky two years ago. Landscapes are so foggy or snowy white. I feel like in another fantastic land, inhabited by some smiley mountain goats.
We stop for a hike nearby a frozen lake, surrounded by frozen dewdrops trees. Peculiar cristal frost. Despite my desire to fall into this snowed powder, my body is on strike, I am flirting with anemia, I would like to throw up, I would like to die. I strangely feel weak, I am stunned by the view, but I would like to sleep for a thousand years.

Landscapes change so completely when we get to Fort Nelson, we are back to civilisation. There are fiels now. There are actual people living here now. I suddenly understand why Yukon felt so particular, driving on a unique road with no crossroads nor houses, with only companion untouched wilderness. I am getting closer to reality here, a reality that I know.
After a short break in this ugly town, we are heading to Dawson Creek. Suddenly so bright in fall sun. Then, landscapes change again, but I cant’ remember exactly how. We are not yet in American Plaines, we are not on mountains anymore, defined by a lot of fog and some rain. The road is running but I cant’ remember. Too busy to tell my story, how my life collapsed a year and a half ago. All of sudden breathless because of what is unfinished and unhealed.
Kevin, my travel companion tells me then such a simple and moving truth: past utterly belongs to past when it is not related to present anymore, when it doesn’t’ hurt in the present anymore. It is a simple statement applying to both Irish history and my current state. It is such a relief, this saying helps me to understand, to fix my idea of time that often imprisons my heart. Kevin says a bunch of other spread things, invisibly answering to the thoughts I left in Whitehorse, surprisingly leading some ideas for my future.
Then, we, once more, touch clouds and heaven. I can see some Rockies in the far. Sun is utterly shining, disappearing so quickly in the night.

We spend the night in Fort St John Motel 6 and I wake up with a huge sun again. We are now completely in Plaines country. Giant fields run in the window, green of light, golden of hay, grazed by some deers. I forgot green colors, I forgot reddish fall colors. Landscapes are flat, the only heights are in the sky or on the top of a hill that falls us from one field to another. Colors are back. Even changing blue skies. It is so yellow and warm I could believe in summer.
When we reach Grand-Cache, the coal factory is magnificent on the edge of the ridge. I would never think a factory could be so moving. But the dark landscape. But the iced blue river. Take my breath away. On the top of Grand Cache, it is so cold, I can see Rockies along us, breaking the prairie. Landscapes are upside down once again.
We changed time but I don’t know it. My knowledge doesn’t intertwine and I can’t figure out that being so close to Canadian Rockies put me on the same time zone as American Rockies. Therefore, one hour later than I think.
I will be late for my next destination. But the beautiful arrival in Jasper to drop my Irish companion is worthy of that detour. What a beauty in the twilight. The enlighted cloud reflection on the lake. The black bear on the side of the road. All those magnificent and giant lakes in between green mountains. Twilight’s sky. It is so beautiful but I don’t have time. I can’t wait to see more.
I finally reach my ten next days huge ranch in the dark. Wandering in the giant North American Continent, I took the opportunity to live my American road trip dream and feed my explorer’s tales. I am happy to stop for a few days, my heart needs to rest, my soul wants to explore.