Rocking into Thunder Bay was another evening event – dark, and leaving us little opportunity to really suss out the town. Tips was also having a field day getting us to the hotel. Dave was having none of it, and turned her off to look at a map. Poor Tips is as delirious as us at all the driving it takes to get across this massive country! We can only assume Thunder Bay wasn’t properly mapped out for GPS, as at one point, Tips literally told us to drive onto some train tracks. We’ll let her off – it’s been a tough ride, and she has gotten us this far after-all, with only a couple of fairly minor detours.

Having assured Dave when leaving the Soo that we were staying at the Holiday Inn in Thunder Bay, he had carefully mapped out exactly where it was. When we finally pulled up out front, we suddenly realized that it was not a Holiday Inn at all, nor did we have a reservation. Mental note for Dave: When Cat assures you that we’re staying somewhere, double check first with (the far more reliable) Michelle. When it was determined that we were in fact staying at the Days Inn, we rocked up, having spent close to an hour in wasted time, with two very hungry boys and one very tired Mich. Cat’s punishment: Unload all the bags and bring them in. I guess I kind of got off easy…

Following a Keg dinner that night, where Dave was conversing in a mysteriously cryptic language with the waiter (turns out Dave was once a Kegger), we uploaded some footage and hit the pillow hard.

‘Toaster Time’ is what we have all come to live by. Toaster Time doesn’t reflect any particular time zone or country, but rather the time in which Toaster decides to determine reasonably resembles what we have pre-established as the drop-dead meeting time for the next morning. Occasionally – and that’s VERY occasionally – it might be within decent distance of either side of what we have agreed upon. But on this particular morning in Thunder Bay, there was a substantial removal from the (what was very lenient given our previous starts) 8am departure time we had set for the big drive we had ahead. This meant that we didn’t depart until 9am, which left us all a little uncomfortable as to whether we would arrive at Kenora’s Husky the Muskey before dark. Given that Tips had spat us out an ungodly 12hr estimated drive-time to Winnipeg the previous evening, it was at very least looking as through we would continue our track record for having dinner at or after 10pm. But there was hope yet, as when we set off at a decent pace that morning, Tips then re-estimated our drive time to be 8hrs, which evoked and audible sigh of relief all around.

In these parts, gas stations are few and far between, so when DD slowed to pull over at the side of the road to pull out the jerry can for a little top up before the next gas station, the rest of the team of course used this time to entertain themselves in another manner. Given my abolishment to the back seat of the car, I was feeling deprived of the opportunity to activate on the ‘trucker-pull-the-horn’ move, and asked Mich to show me how it was done – ala standing on the side of the road. Following two embarrassingly unsuccessful attempts, Dave decided to use this as an opportunity to make a harsh jab at Cat by suggesting that perhaps the truckers didn’t understand Australian. Yeah – you’re so funny, DD… But, you’re forgetting who you’re messing with here…

Our first stop for gas was in a small town by the name Upsala. While Dave re-energized Gus at the tank, the rest of the team ran inside to grab snackage. Eat healthy on this trip we have not – as any traveler will know, it’s a challenging feat to achieve. With crisps and chocolate among our staples, it was no digression for Toaster to grab a packet of red liquorice and hand it to Mich at the counter. But he didn’t really hand it to her, did he? Nope. Instead he dropped the bag of liqourice on the counter. And on our coffees. Both of which of course fell over, and spilt over the entire work surface, paperwork, product, you name it… And it formed a pretty decent puddle around the entire counter, too.

Cat, amidst a startled giggle, asked the station attendant whether it would be ok to take a picture, and Mich – apologizing profusely, immediately bolted to the washroom for paper towels to assist in mopping up the mess. And Toaster? Nowhere to be seen. Apparently he ran to the truck to let Dave know what has just gone down in the store. Whistler Blackcomb, you chose well in assigning your leader… Ms. Roo shines again…

I guess when you’re dragging a giant red gondola around Canada with a fully-logo’ed vehicle; dressed head to toe in fabulous, bright-tartan Quiksilver and Roxy snowboarding gear; that inconspicuous is never going to be a part of your repertoire. Rather than freaking out, banning us, or calling the authorities, the lovely occupants of this store simply took it in stride, and told us it was probably the most exciting thing that would happen to them all day. And that they had seen Dola on Canada AM. Bless…

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