Canada & U.S.A… and my twenty-second birthday!

You can’t come on my tour!

What an uncharitable thought to have on hearing that my friend Darryl’s trip had been cancelled! Such a nasty girl! Cries of

Poor Darryl…

swiftly became cries of

Poor me!

He’d be joining my five-week camping tour of the west coast of U.S.A and Canada. My dreams of meeting new friends and travelling the world… at least the North American part of it, were evaporating like a puddle in a heatwave. We cleverly devised a plan of action… we’d play 'I don’t know you' (real mature)!

On arriving in San Francisco, we introduced ourselves to fellow Australian travellers as being from Cairns and the Atherton Tablelands respectively. In hindsight, whilst technically true, it was deliberately misleading. Almost immediately, our subterfuge backfired. I had to reassure the other girls on the tour that Darryl and I had no interest in each other… embarrassing! Within the hour, we’d confessed that we knew each other. Not the most auspicious start to the holiday!

That first night in San Francisco, just yesterday (in 1984)… this small-town hick checked where it was safe to wander. Our Aussie, tour guide Jeff reassured us that it was fine to visit Chinatown and to venture one block further up the hill from our hotel. Phew! That one block had me puffing like a steam train. Back then, I was a young, fit thing… the payoff from pretending to play weekly hockey (but instead running up and down the field avoiding the ball).

Bright and early the next morning, Jeff and his friendly Canadian wife, Rosanne packed a dozen of us into the minibus, sporting the camping gear on its roof.

Travel posters of Yosemite National Park had decorated my previous workplace. How unbelievable it was to be riding a push bike through the glorious countryside. Surprisingly, Darryl came in handy when nobody else was willing to join me on the hike up to iconic El Capitan’s lookout. Afterwards, a fleeting dip in the frigid river instantly washed away all signs of exertion. Meanwhile, one of our group had her camera kissed by a benevolent bear at Upper Yosemite falls.

Quickly, we fell into a routine as the sun set each day. How I came to love those forest green pyramids of canvas and their handy central poles… so slick to erect & collapse (especially in the middle of the night, when mounting a stealth attack on an unsuspecting friend). Inflating air mattresses using a foot pump, rendered the gym superfluous. Calf muscles kept toned, and pesky rocks and tree roots were thwarted in their attempts to hijack our precious sleep.

Amenities blocks were the wild cards of each camping ground. One shower block was so environmentally friendly, the cubicle doors were barely there! Short both ends, we had to hunch over whilst showering. We enhanced our Friendly Aussie reputation by waving over door tops to passersby outside!

Once, when shopping, my friend Ann asked about a larger shoe size. The affable assistant deftly drew a shoe on the lid of the box and announced,

There, a size 10 shoe box!

We were met with similar warmth and good humour throughout our holiday.

Los Angeles here we come! Magic Mountain Six Flags amusement park was almost just a fleeting glimpse out the bus window!

Who wants to visit?

Silence was not golden… it was shockin’! I couldn’t fathom how anyone could resist such an adrenaline fuelled feast! Riding roller coasters solo, I could not condone. Darryl to the rescue again!

Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm’s roller coasters and rides prolonged the euphoria… what more could this small-town girl want?

How about fame? We plotted how to maximise our chances of being chosen to star as bit parts in Universal Studios’ tourist video clips. We scattered like seashells on a shore amongst the audience! Of all the wannabe stars from our bus, Darryl and I were the only ones chosen!

Who can swim?

Desperate times called for desperate measures!

Me!

Soon, I was fully kitted out in cowboy chaps, Stetson and stuff… nervously wondering just how good a swimmer I needed to be! Was I about to drown in a very public manner?! Well… I guess not, since I obviously lived to tell the story… however, my bank balance precluded me from purchasing the blockbuster video we'd starred in!

Another excellent memento which I foolishly passed up, was a tiny bottle of Painted Desert sands.

Who’d want to buy a jar of painted sand?

Belatedly, I learnt the name of the picturesque countryside we were passing through. Time was short at the spectacular Grand Canyon, so we were thrilled to join the birds in flying over it. A night Rock Concert was scheduled near the rim. How fantastic! It was! Rocks were spoken about… but alas, not one single note was sung, nor drums pounded.

Meanwhile, Zion and Bryce National Parks provided us with several pleasant hours hiking.

On departing Australia, I was adamant I that horse riding was the one activity I would not be doing. Those magnificent creatures have a habit of biting me! My 22nd Birthday dawned bright and clear. My friends bestowed two souvenir bibs on me, to wear the entire day as I’d previously suffered through several Thousand Island Dressing disasters. White water rafting at West Glacier, Montana was everything it promised... invigoratingly death defying!

However, unable to endure the prospect of lolling around alone, back at camp, while everyone else went horse riding, I ended up perched atop a sedate horse named Strawberry. Descending a trail, I came perilously close to plunging over her head… only to almost slide off her tail on the homeward ascent. Nervous exhaustion hit instantly, back at the ranch… I was first asleep! What a despicable waste of birthday hours.

They say the more you put into anything, the more you get out of it! Canada Day, 1984 saw us admiring the stately Fairmont Chateau overlooking Lake Louise's gorgeous turquoise waters. That day, several of us cheerily set off along Paradise Valley, for Sentinel Pass… a 25 km hike. My feet were clad in my trusty sand shoes with zero tread (akin to today’s Dunlop Volleys).

Nearing the summit, we speculated over what a blizzard looked like! Heading towards Moraine Lake, snow obliterated the trail, so we slid down the slope… marvellous! Hours later, when my feet thawed, I realised my flimsy shoes sported a sprained ankle. Was it worth it? Absolutely! That five-and-a-half-hour hike was the highlight of the entire trip.

Back in beautiful Banff, we crowded into a tiny cottage. Rather than vie for bathroom privileges, we soaked in nearby hot springs… goodbye aching muscles.

Three Canadian friends from Oz met up with me in Vancouver. Dan, proudly treated me to a quick spin in his black Trans-Am convertible slung so low it seemed we could slide beneath buses.

Our camping trip was racing towards the finish line. Sadly, as we neared Seattle, we’d long since become blasé about snowy slopes. Jeff suddenly pulled to the side of the road and directed us to the top of a small rise.

Do we have to get out?

Energy levels were plummeting rapidly. Dredging up a glimmer of enthusiasm, we staggered off up the slope. Ta Da! Crater Lake in all her glory, patiently awaited our admiration. At her back, one last long snow slide called to us.

Like a siren luring sailors onto the rocks… so too, that shining snow drew us to the slope… goodbye blue jeans, hello bleached out, snow washed ones!

Almost before we could blink, five fabulous weeks were drawing to a close. San Francisco’s streets were strangely less steep and fatiguing than on our original visit. Brimming with zing, we power-walked up Little Lombard Street, leaving cars languishing on the torturously tight corners. After experiencing one cable car trip, impatience and energy levels deemed it far quicker to hoof it back up to the hotel from the bay… forget hanging around queuing for cable cars.

Having watched Clint Eastwood in the movie Escape From Alcatraz, an island visit was a must. Disappointingly, my solitary confinement experience was neither solitary nor silent! Trust me… for once, I actually managed to keep my mouth shut, but others did not!

Less than 24 hours stopover in Waikiki, Hawaii was our last hurrah before reluctantly heading on home. Darryl insisted I try out an outrigger canoe.

I’ve been in stacks of canoes!

I protested.

Reluctantly, I paid up and wasn’t sorry! My past canoeing experiences were like an anchor ploughing through the water. That outrigger canoe was an agile Flying Fish soaring gracefully over the waves. If my wallet had been deep enough, I’d still be there!

It turned out, Darryl wasn’t a bad penny that kept turning up, but a cloud's silver lining.

Memories of my twenty-second birthday, and wonderful west coast of U.S.A and Canada camping trip still linger sweetly.

Absolutely fabulous!