SRT 2018 Finally

The week of the trip was spent considering and gathering what I wanted to take.  A list was started and carried with me in case I thought of something else. On my Wednesday off, I enjoyed the morning detailing my RAV, packing and allowing my Self to start feeling excited.  The only must-do was my tubs, and I took care of those with a feeling that everything would be okay. I even fought with two jets at Shauna’s, and eventually won, with only one bruised and cut knuckle.  I slowly started to feel the energy of freedom being released into my blood. I was organized and ticking boxes, so that I would have nothing from S/C to think about while I was gone. Not surprisingly, the SRT energy motivated me around my house and yard … my life in general felt better.  I could have just as easily stayed home with that energy, but then would it have stayed? Would it have grown? The energy needed the watering that only the SRT would give. Awareness was being revealed as each minute passed, and each minute got closer to driving away.

Thursday at work was mixed with small details for my SRT that needed attention.  My kids wanted to see me before I left, so Thursday night was taking care of kisses and hugs and grandkid snuggles.  When I got home, I was pooped, but the thrill of Friday was upon me, and I packed to my satisfaction so that Friday morning would be spent loading up the RAV.  The only thing on my list that I let go was taking food for the trip. I admire my sister for putting so much time and attention into making food for any trips they took.  Cooler upon cooler and bags of premade ‘healthy’ food was always a priority. Maybe next trip.

Everything went well Friday morning, and I had my lunch hour to tidy up the last few details.  Paycheque, fuel up, buy an SD card, and as it turned out Kaity spent the hour with me doing these errands.  It was so nice to have her company. Then the few afternoon hours until 5:00. It was slow enough at work, that I could have easily left early, but then at about 4:00, everyone came out of the woodwork, and the last hour flew by.  John asked if I was nervous about crossing the border, and I said no because I have nothing to hide. He laughed and said, ‘unless they find something’. It added just a bit of that good kind of fear, and I felt the rush of the unknown splash all over me.  He and Nick asked about the hours of the border crossing, and instilled uncertainty in my mind, so I tried to call the border several times throughout the day to confirm the hours but no answer. I finally just said fuck this, whatever happens will happen. It’s summer, and the website said it is open until 8:00, which gives me plenty of time to get there.  I loved the rushes of excitement that would hit, the thrill of going to where I have never gone before, and the very slight fear of doing it all alone.

Finally 5:00! Said goodbyes, and I was outta there.  Only one stop to make, and that was McDonald’s for four large black coffees.  I filled the thermos Dennis used every day for tea to take to work, 3.5 large coffees fit, with half to drink on the way out of town.  Texted everyone, turned on the tunes, and took the #4 South of Swift Current, a road less travelled the further and further I got from town.  Destination towns. Dennis’ old territory. Farm country. Montana, here I come!!

Those miles are a blur.  Excitement oozing from my pores.  I was doing this. Going places I had never been before, and I was doing it by myself.  The Captain of my ship. I settled into thoughts of what this trip was all about. A spirit quest.  A journey to discover new pieces of myself. Freedom to be. I was going off the grid so to speak. Once I crossed into the United States, my cell phone would be used only in emergency, for google maps in Billings, and to check in with family when wifi was available.  Unplug. Recharge. I was doing my best to not have any expectations, but I’m human, and that’s nearly impossible to do 100%. I allowed my self to expect insights, revelations, and discovery of my truth. What exactly those would be and in what areas of my life, I left to God and my Guides.  Oh sure, I had hopes that there would be specifics, and when I would become aware that my mind was wandering to those specifics, I gently set them to the side so they wouldn’t get in my way.

I had intentions of writing on my trip.  Lots of writing. Besides journaling, I wanted to start a story … a new one, with an idea I’ve had for years, but it’s never really blossomed into anything.  A woman wakes up in a large plush bed. The room is elaborately decorated, like royalty. Tall curtains from high ceiling to floor. Cushions. Vibrant colours.  A breeze is coming through the windows. There is a man asleep on a Victorian style couch across the room. She wakes up and surveys the room, realizing she has no memory of how she got there, or where she was.  In fact, she feels any memory of Who she is slipping away like dreams do. Who is she?

I’m driving through places that Dennis would drive weekly.  He knew this part of Saskatchewan like the back of his hand.  He knew people and people knew him. I wondered how many people were shocked when they heard the news of his death, and even though only customers, how their lives changed as well without the Culligan Man to save their stinky water, or the Beachcomber dude to fix their hot tub.  I missed him terribly driving deeper into his territory. I could feel him, and wished I knew more about his life on the road. His story has so many empty pages, not because he died, but because we didn’t talk much about our day with each other. There was so much I didn’t know about his day-to-day life.  I cried as my broken heart ached with loss and sadness.

#4 South ends, and I turn right at V/M toward the border crossing in Monchy.  The road becomes rough and uneven. Traffic almost non-existent. Beautiful farmland, but I am distracted with watching the road.  I push my RAV as I feel the urgency to get to the border. I never did find out for sure when it closes, and now doubt and worry were creeping in.  What if it’s closed? Then what? It almost got to the point that my whole trip would be ruined if that happened, and then a ray of sunshine broke through, and I understood that if it Did happen that the border was closed, that it would be Part of my trip … part of the adventure of exploring the unknown … part of walking, or driving as the case may be, into my future.  Plan B, whatever that is, would have to take over, and even though I didn’t have a Plan B at the time, I knew there was one if I needed it.

Voila!  I see the border crossing in the distance and I relax …. but, it looks deserted.  Good grief, a huge government building in the middle of nowhere, and no vehicles, no lights, no people.  Maybe it Is closed. I pull up to the stop sign, still a fair distance from the main building, and wait. And wait.  And wait. The hours posted says it’s open until 8:00, and I am well before that time. Still no movement. I turn my vehicle off and wait some more.  Why would the website instil doubt by saying the border may close without warning? I sit there and slowly start to hatch Plan B. Drive back to Val Marie and hope there’s a hotel or B&B I suppose.  My insides skip when two men suddenly come out of the building, laughing and I swear one was tucking his shirt into his pants. I interrupted them. Supper maybe? Or maybe something abit more naughty.  Omg Tina, what are you thinking?? One man waves me to pull forward. I take a deep breath, smile, and start the RAV.

I thought I had never crossed the border in a vehicle, but then I remembered crossing it with Dennis on our honeymoon into Seattle.  Omg how could I have forgotten!!! And then Omg, I’m SO glad I remembered. Hahahaha I remember him being so nervous, and when he gets nervous he makes really lame jokes, which the border dude was not impressed with, so Dennis would make even More lame jokes.  Too funny. I had a sense of that same nervousness too, but I lack terribly in the joking department.

I felt bits of fear inside my tummy, even though I had done nothing wrong.  I’m not smuggling dope or even fruits and vegetables.  The younger man is the question maker, while the older man is the observer.  As I answer questions like what my citizenship is, destination, length of stay, what’s in the white cooler on the floor, why don’t I have a bike if I’m going on a trail ride, and then the mention of Bitter Creek Outfitters eases the younger man’s mind that I’m not out to destroy America.  The older man nods his approval after searching under my vehicle with a mirror on the end of a stick.  The younger man comments on the Edelbrock sticker on my wallet, and I tell him it was my husband’s.  He seemed to understand, and didn’t ask any more questions.  I was allowed entry into the United States of America.  Montana to be exact.  What a rush!!!!

Five minutes later I had to pull over.  The sheer beauty of Montana captivated me.  It was as if I had travelled into a different world.  How could the landscape look and feel so different from Saskatchewan, only a handful of kilometres away … or I should say miles.  Hawk after hawk after hawk, and deer … sooo many deer. A jackrabbit raced along side me until veering off into the field. It didn’t even enter my mind that he could have veered under my vehicle.  It just knew and trusted that he wouldn’t. When I pulled over, a beautiful doe stopped as well. I rolled down the passenger side window and we looked at each other, not moving, barely breathing even.  I didn’t know exactly what the message was, and whatever it was, I didn’t want it to stop. She broke the connection and walked away, so I got out of the RAV and drank in the atmosphere. The absolute quiet.  The softness of the landscape with it’s lush rolling hills and the highway slicing through the middle. This is the road I’m taking and that’s the direction I’m going in. More hawks and more deer; is it just me, or is there an abundance of wildlife in Montana??  I connected again with the doe, and when she turned and walked away into her world, I got into the RAV and drove away into mine. Next stop Malta.