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Galloping Emotions There is no time like the present, for
postponing what you ought to be doing, and go bicycling instead
... " A few weeks later - as fate would have it - the provincial government axed new teachers' contracts on the budgetary chopping block. Mine was one of them. When Sharon, a Chartered Accountant, arrived home at midnight after cleaning up a box job [a year's receipts in a shoe box], I told her the news. Rather than whine about budget cuts and temporary setbacks, she suggested it was our big opportunity to get away from it all. "I've been thinking that I'm not cut out for the dog-eat-dog business world anyway," Sharon said. "I'd like to pack in this fabulous career and its 100-hour work weeks." She paused. "Maybe this is our chance to get out of the rat race and make a fresh start. Besides," she cooed, flinging her arms around my neck, "you always said you would take me on a honeymoon." Her presentation was difficult to resist. Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something? Perhaps I just needed to be quiet and listen. Maybe we really could make a new beginning ... escape the concrete jungle ... take that world cycling trip and honeymoon Sharon had dreamed of for so long.... As she pointed out, when was there going to be a better time? Were we destined to live passionless existences, too afraid to take a risk and live? Subsisting instead on drudgery, dead to the core, working day in and day out, hanging on for the day we could retire so we could live? I had heard that clergy, administering last rites, said: "People on their death beds never regret what they've done ... they only regret what they haven't." Purportedly, not many were heard to utter the popular phrase, "I wish I'd spent more time at the office." "Well," I declared, "the only difference between a rut and a grave is its depth." Live life large! Bold! Daring, even. Make the most of the short time we're allotted. As my mother was fond of saying: "There's always a reason not to do something. But it's just an excuse. Figure out what you want to do ... then do it." "Why not?" I heard myself say. "No regrets."
Our decision to embark on a cycling tour of the world required us to change our planned summer trip of cycling to Alaska. No problem - except for the fact that we had already invited two friends, Sue and Vicky. What would they think about our change in plans? Sharon thought it'd be a neat idea to make our round-the-world trip a doorstep to doorstep endeavour: ride home, to a new beginning - the long route. We would cycle southeast out of Edmonton to Cypress Hills - the highest elevation in Canada between the Rockies and Labrador - then east across Canada to Halifax, hop a plane to Spain, tour around Europe, India, Australia, New Zealand, then over to Alaska and bike from Anchorage down to Vancouver and back to Edmonton. The orange highlighter lines I drew on our world map looked so neat and tidy. It all seemed so easy. We presented the new plans to our cycling buddies. Vicky, who had been eager to take on the Alaskan adventure (and had spent considerable time researching and route planning), was devastated. "There goes my summer cycling," she grumbled. "Why don't you come with us when we set out from Edmonton?" I suggested. "No, thanks," Vicky replied. "I can cycle out of Edmonton any time." She paused, brightening. "But maybe I'll join you somewhere in Europe. Or New Zealand. Or Australia!" The twinkle returned to her eyes. I chewed my lip. I knew how difficult it could be to meet someone parachuting in. Sue, living in Victoria, had already booked three weeks of vacation and a flight to Edmonton that would be difficult to change. Fortunately she was keen on the change in plans. "We even have a bonus," she informed us cheerily. "My mom and dad are on our route. We can hit them up for hospitality." Things were looking good indeed!
On prior trips, we'd usually depart the same day I finished classes. However, touring for one or two months is not the same as touring for two years. At first, we entertained the idea of renting our little home. But, being absentee landlords seemed fraught with problems. And, unless we rented it fully furnished, we still had to find somewhere to store our belongings. Better to sell the house we finally concluded. Not only would it rid us of possible future headaches, but we'd reap a tidy sum for the trip. Besides the usual necessities of getting our bikes and ourselves prepared, we had a myriad of other tasks and complexities to deal with ... all within a few days. What to sell? What to put into storage? Indeed, where to store it? Sharon's brothers and sisters (she has eight) helped us by offering to take bits and pieces. One obtained a bed, another a barbecue, and still another a greenhouse. Our friends, Heide and Ryan, inherited an aquarium complete with fishy inhabitants. Sharon's mom and dad were kind enough to relieve us of our living room furniture. (I even got one feel-good experience from the getting-rid-of-material-items effort: after I sold our television set, I donated the entire proceeds to a local church. Who said nothing good ever came from television?) Our remaining household items got squirreled away in a spare bedroom at a house Sharon's dad owned. My vehicles - a black and gold Firebird Formula 400, and two antique oval window Volkswagen Beetles - found storage space in a dusty corner of a quonset hut at Sharon's mom and dad's farm in Morinville. Sharon's sister, Faye, arranged to receive our mail. Faye also agreed to be our Power of Attorney and attend to matters for us when we were thousands of kilometres from home. We visited banks, signed forms, transferred accounts, and signed more forms. We asked pertinent questions about Visa and MasterCard PINs to ensure the cards would work in overseas banking machines. Trying to obtain a telephone calling card, we discovered it near impossible once we didn't have our own phone number. Sharon's mom and dad came to the rescue by allowing us to use their phone card. We trooped several times to the health unit, receiving boosters and vaccinations for various countries on our itinerary. Along with typhoid pills, we endured many pokes and prods from health professionals: tetanus shots, yellow fever shots, polio shots, meningococcal shots, diphtheria shots, measles, mumps, and rubella shots. (I hadn't realized how jostling Grade Twos could be until after a round of needle jabbing at the local health unit. "Ouch! Please don't touch my arm!" Maybe that needled them to bump me even more? Isn't it fun watching Teacher grimace!) Medical and dental coverage through our respective employers would end. We contacted Alberta Health and secured information concerning citizens who planned on being absent from Canada for an extended period. "You're not covered after three months," the efficient clerk informed us. "You must arrange for alternate private coverage." At the end of June, my teaching contract concluded. Sharon resigned her Chartered Accountant position. Sue flew in to accompany us on our grand start. With all our running around - and working till the very last minute - we'd had no time to train or even get our bikes in order. When Sue arrived, we still hadn't finished packing all our household contents. Sharon, even though she had 'officially' finished work, trooped into the office two extra days and completed files. Talk about professionalism. Meanwhile, Sue and I threw possessions into boxes and transported them to the designated storage area. Four days later, our to-do list was still incomplete. Sue's precious holiday time was ticking away. Past midnight, Sharon and I freaked, frazzled by details still not complete ... drained from tearful goodbyes with family and friends ... debilitated from overwork and lack of sleep. So tired, we couldn't think straight. Our galloping emotions reached the breaking point. Sharon and I argued. Over what to do. Over what not to do. Over whose fault it was. Over whose fanciful idea this whole trip was in the first place. We threw our hands up in frustration. When Sharon's face rained tears, I grabbed her and hugged her tight. Then it dawned on me. Why not begin the trip as planned? Ride to Medicine Hat with Sue ... she could catch her return flight to Victoria ... and we would hop a bus back to Edmonton and finish loose ends. Brilliant! Past exhaustion, we fell into bed, wondering why we hadn't thought of it sooner. |
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