This land was made for you and me

Whew! Ten thousand. That’s the number that clicked over on my odometer as my engine toiled up the hill to Cape Spear, the most eastern bit of all of North America. Ten thousand kilometres of asphalt, gravel, mountain air, and coastal fog stretching all the way back to the interior of British Columbia.

Canada … 10 provinces. Six time zones. Countless memories.

When the Skipper and the Pilot first fired up my engine back in June, I was an over-confident 25year-old motorhome carrying my people, a mountain of gear, and a small mason jar of Pacific Ocean water. But I have come to realize that this journey is more than just a road trip. My aging frame felt every shift in the road, every rattle in my cupboards, and every beat of the huge hearts I carried inside my cabin.

At first, I figured I was just carrying a couple of seniors on a vacation. You know, like almost all the other RVs I have encountered in parking lots and campsites along this trip. Ha! was I ever wrong! It turns out that I’ve seen firsthand that raising an active nine-year-old in their sixties is a special kind of exhaustion calling. Doing it across all those time changes (think bedtime disruption) turned it into an adventure of a lifetime.

Being a GrandRaiser means living in the space between total exhaustion, early mornings, and profound love. And I am pretty sure I caught sight of those two old people sharing glances of pride as they experienced their little guy embracing all that Canada offers. True, there were nights when the Pilot’s shoulders were sore from wrestling my steering wheel through prairie gales and washboard blind curves in rural Newfoundland. There were nights when the Skipper was too tired to even think about relaxing. Even so, I am witness to the overriding love and commitment… the GrandRaiser way.

The First Mate made friends everywhere my tires stopped. In the Rockies, he shared campfire bread with a seven-year-old boy who spoke only German, bridging the gap without a single shared word. In Québec, when we boondocked on a quiet farm, he was out in the grass with a Francophone kids, turning language barriers into laughter. That kid collected fast friends on every playground from BC to Newfoundland, making pals alongside farm puppies and an adorable tree frog in Gander. In Charlottetown, he joined a pickup game of barefoot soccer right there on the floating harbour docks while his adults found a quite moment to look on with cold drinks.

Along the way, the First Mate grew right before our eyes. Everywhere my crew went it seemed like folks commented on what a polite and well spoken boy he is. He charmed grocery clerks and park rangers. I have already fallen for his freckled faced with mischievous twinkling eyes and beguiling grin. I’ve forgiven the sandy floors and the banging cupboard doors. That kid can charm treats and extra souveniers… but oh, the GrandRaisers and I know. We know how days-upon-days in the backseat, how homesickness and how messed up sleep schedules can bring on frustated tears, harsh words and frazzled nerves. And I mean all three of them.

Treasures Found Along the Way.

Along the way, so many special treasures found their home inside my cupboards and in their memories along the way. Petey the Puffin joined our crew in Bonavista. A huge box of glittering purple stones from the amethyst mine in Thunder Bay is tucked away. A sweet wee buffalo sleeps with the little guy every night as does an enormous stuffed capibara he won at the carnival midway in Hamilton. He ran the bases at the Blue Jays game in Toronto, spelunked in ancient limestone caves in Eganville, and learned how to cast a line without snagging the Pilot. He learned the difference between a teepee and a wigwam, and the importance of the fur trade between European settlers and First Nations peoples. He’s felt the spray of the mighty Niagara Falls and the hot sun of a Muskoka summer day… and spotted a gray whale in the Bay of Fundy. He felt his roots on the rocky land where his ancestors settled in the new found land some ten generations ago. Fossils hundreds of millions of years old, picked up off the beaches of Manitoulin Island, are nested away safely on board.

Then there were the Canadiana stories… For nearly sixty hours, my speakers poured forth in the endearing prose of Lucy Maud Montgomery. We lived and breathed the adventures and colourful characters Anne of Green Gables cross thousands of kilometers of highway… before we ever set foot on Prince Edward Island. By the time we walked through the Haunted Woods at Cavendish and sat in the theatre for the live musical in Charlottetown, those stories felt like old friends riding in the back seat with us.

We felt the true heart of Canada on flat driveway spots offered by kind souls, in shared pots of homemade soup, and through unexpected gifts like frozen shrimp in Bay Roberts or fresh cookies for a warm heart. Delicious food and good company sustains my crew. Here’s what sustains me…

By the time we reached the fog-drenched cliffs of Cape Spear, Newfoundland, the most easterly point of the continent, I could feel the weight of everything we had shared (and all those heavy rocks in my storage bins)! I bore witness as my crew stood on the edge of the continent, pulled out that precious jar of Pacific water we had carried from British Columbia, and poured it into the Atlantic Ocean. He scooped up a little bit of the East Coast to take back west, and the circle was complete.

With mixed emotions, we turned around. They all climbed back aboard and pointed my headlights westward toward home. My engine hums a steady, grateful song. Homeward bound…