I Can See A Moose From My Bathroom

(Originally written on 15 January, 02:32 Central Time.)

I suppose since I’ve arrived safely in Atikokan, it’s now time to give mention to our mode of transportation. I request everyone reading this raise a glass to Tesla’s VW Jetta, which saw us safely here without incident. Despite the fact it was forced to push itself harder than ever before, and is four years from being declared an antique.

It has no proper radio antenna, merely a piece of steel rod. The fenders have been rusting out for God knows how long, the sunroof can be opened, but not closed, and the heating system control is two wires that have to be connected manually. I’ll never say this to Tesla, but I was expecting we’d wake up this morning at the hotel in Kapuskasing and find it had coughed up its own engine.

So, we set out an hour before dawn, stopped within a kilometre to clean off the headlights, and continued on. This is moose country, after all. As reliable as that Jetta’s proven itself to be, running headlong into Bullwinkle would’ve really ruined the day of that little red workhorse.

But the trip was uneventful, save for the return of Theatre Ass after ten minutes, as well as my left leg once again deciding it wanted a vacation from the abuse it was taking from hour after hour in the car. (Yes, it’s fine now. No cane required.) We cleared through little places like Longlac, Beardmore, and probably a dozen other places that made Indigo’s old stomping grounds of Vittoria seem like a bustling city.

So, after 1,578 kilometres, we arrived. After unpacking the German Workhorse and meeting a couple of the guys that we’ll be working with – they had been waiting for us – we found one of the two restaurants in town (which shares a building with the town’s conference hall, pub, and bowling alley) and met (all in one person) the restaurant’s owner, co-inhabitant of our apartment building, and local Gossip Queen. She confessed to knowing before we got to the restaurant where we were living, and why we had moved up here in the first place. She’s also on a first-name basis with the mayor, who refuses to change the sign saying there’s 3300 people in town, because he doesn’t want to admit any number that would be less. Welcome to Small Town, Ontario.

Tesla had suggested I find a photo of an ice fishing hut and claim that’s the new residence. But to be honest, the new place is actually quite nice. There’s two bedrooms, full kitchen and bathroom, and a decent size living room. I had suggested two weeks ago we have our future boss put our names in on the place in advance, so we wouldn’t have to camp in the Jetta. Good move on my part, better move on Tesla’s part for listening to me. You see what happens when you listen to me, people? You avoid freezing to death overnight in a Jetta.

But thinking about it now, I have to say this is absolutely one of the craziest things I’ve ever done. Here’s why: I’m now one hour behind just about everyone I know (Central Time Zone); all the rivers flow toward the Arctic Ocean; we’ve come across signs for the Dawson Trail; we could have a traffic jam in town because of a jay-walking moose; and walking the three kilometres to work is inadvisable due to the risk (however slight) of meeting the local wolf pack.

I’m beginning to wonder if this is the town where they shot that old CBC show, ‘North of 60.’