Here’s the deal:
… are our responsibility. Every. Day.
It doesn’t sound like much until you try to get away. So we rarely do. Together, at least. The last two trips taken in this household were done separately. I, to France and England. The husband, to Mexico to visit his family. Finding someone who has the ability, time, and desire to farmsit (not to mention not completely drain our pocketbook, and must be trustworthy) isn’t exactly the easiest task. Oh, and of course it can’t conflict with our other activities, like, you know, work.
This weekend, we managed to do it. My horse instructor had the time, we set a price, she agreed, and off we went.
To Picture Butte.
Google Maps said it would take 13.5 hours to get from the suburbs of Vancouver to that tiny little town.
“Can’t we take just one more day to make it a little more bearable?” I pleaded with my husband.
“No. I have to work a half-day on Friday and I can’t take Monday off either.” He was firm in his decision. Whatever. I didn’t have to drive.
Friday came. I cleaned the house, (there’s nothing worse than coming home to a dirty house) and he went to work. Around noon he came back home. We packed, then packed the dogs, and were able to leave around 2PM. The dogs were excited about the car ride.
First stop: Dairy Queen. Not even 5 minutes on the road and we grabbed some junk to titillate the senses. Blizzards, burgers, and fries! Oh my!
Second stop: Kamloops. 3 hours in, and it’s time for the dogs to stretch their legs and have a bathroom break. Maila apparently missed her potty time at home, and was dying to poop as soon as she got out. But only on the grass. Dirt just would not do. Everyone relieved, we grabbed some more high-calorie snacks and the hubster and I headed back to the car, only to find that Maila was insisting that she had seen enough driving so she could take over for awhile. We told her no, and she acquiesced.
It was getting dark on our way out a town, so the pups decided to catch some zzz’s.
We stopped for dinner in Revelstoke. The husband in his pyjamas, we went to the 112 restaurant. I felt a tad awkward going in like that, but no one seemed to mind. Sitting in the car for so long and all the junk food made me crave something slightly more healthy, so I ordered a creamy prawn salad. He had steak, and we shared crab-stuffed mushrooms to start. It was all delicious. I was in heaven!
Leaving Revelstoke, I decided to drive for a couple of hours so that he could rest, seeing as he’d be driving until the wee hours of the morning. He snoozed while I battled the ridiculous fog, and of course woke up and demanded to drive once the fog was gone and it was clear skies. We took that moment as a bathroom break for all 4 of us, enjoying the clear, star-filled sky along the side of the mountain highway.
By this time, it was past midnight, and I decided it was pointless to stay awake, so I joined the dogs in the land of sleep until we reached Picture Butte. Instead of getting directions like a normal person, Guapito and his Mexican sidekick talked through the directions all the way from town to the house on the farm. “Why didn’t he just give you an address?” I asked. “Maybe there isn’t one,” he responded.
His friend, Chuy, and Chuy’s wife, Ceci, warmly greeted us at the door. I was shocked they were both up, considering it was 4AM. Since we had been on the road for 13 hours (we lost an hour with the time change), we made it short and sweet, trucked our stuff into the room, and all snuggled into bed for a few hours of sleep.