This was going to be a trip for the ages. The year was 1991, and the month was June. If you’re gonna get out of Tucson, Arizona for a while, this was the time to do it – June is our hottest month, when daily temperatures routinely reach above100 degrees. Here was the plan: I would drive Johanna’s car across the country, making my way by degrees up to Toronto, then she’d fly there to join me. The next leg of our journey would see us fly to Buenos Aires for a month of travel and exploration in South America. That’s it – quick to say, but deliciously slow in the undertaking. Little did we know the excitement that was in store for us the next 6 weeks.
I would start first. After a tearful goodbye, I set out driving her ’86 Nissan Sentra early the morning of the 10th. My goal – drive east on Interstate 10 for what would seem like forever. An overcast day would oversee my start, and a couple of hours later, as I entered New Mexico, it started to rain. Luckily for me, the car had a good air conditioner (I’d need it) and a nice stereo system – I do like my tunes, especially when driving alone – it helps the miles pass as I stare through that windshield. I made El Paso by late morning and gassed up. Under clearing skies, the miles rolled on by. West Texas struck me as surprisingly mountainous (it was my first time there), but eventually the mountains faded away and I found myself in the flatlands. By the time I reached Midland, it was time to call it quits – a solid 675 miles under my belt was plenty enough for one day. I found a Mickey D’s and a burger and relaxed a bit.
On this, my first night of the trip, I needed to find a place to camp. I had a good tent, but where to pitch it? I was about to learn that every bloody square foot of Texas is owned by somebody, that there’s no such thing as public land. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking for some patch of ground to call mine for the night, but was all out of ideas. Finally, I knocked on a farmhouse door and asked if I could camp on their property, out in one of their fields, for the night. They seemed a bit wary, but I must have convinced them I was fairly harmless because they directed me to a nearby spot and said to help myself. Exhausted, I settled in for the night. The humidity was outrageous – even with clear skies, by morning my tent was soaked as if by a heavy rain.
Day 2 – June 11, 1991
I arose at 4:30 AM and put away my soggy tent. Continuing east on Interstate 20 (I had left 10 behind 140 miles earlier, yesterday) I stopped at a rest area for a snack. The farther I went, the hillier it became, and wooded too. By noon, I had reached the huge urban sprawl of Fort Worth and Dallas (it was my first time there, and I was amazed how it just went on and on). Another 160 miles took me to Louisiana, and I just kept motoring east. Once at the town of Arcadia, I headed south on various paved roads to finally reach something called Driskill Mountain. It wasn’t a mountain by any standards I knew – in fact, it was all pretty flat, and a whopping 535 feet above sea level. I parked and walked through some bush to the high point of the state of Louisiana, where a plaque attesting to the fact greeted me. Extremely humid here too. Well, that was pretty easy a way to knock off a state high point ( I’d decided to rack up a few of these on my long drive to Toronto).
Next, on a wild hair, I decided to drive up to Arkansas – it was only 70 miles or so, and dark by the time I got there. I found a dirt road heading into a patch of bush and pitched my soggy tent, and of course it was raining! I had earlier stopped at a supermarket for a few groceries, and had cold fare for my supper in the car.
Day 3 – June 12,1991
Another 4:30 start – south to Interstate 20 once again, then the long drive east. After passing all the way through Mississippi, Alabama came next. I blew right on through Tuscaloosa and Birmingham. It came time to leave the freeway once again and head south into Talladega National Forest, where I came to rest atop Cheaha Mountain. It was mid-afternoon. At 2,407 feet, nothing in Alabama was higher. This place was pretty built-up, with a campground, hotel and store. Nice spot, but I didn’t stick around long – after tagging the high point, I drove back down and out to the freeway.
Next came Georgia. It was barely a hundred miles to Atlanta, which I hit right at rush hour. I had never before seen a freeway with 8 lanes heading in each direction, and I felt like a country bumpkin. The drive north was through beautiful rolling mountains. On I went, finally finding a bit of dirt road in the bush where I camped in the pouring rain (yes, the weather had closed in again and it was pissing down rain in the dark).
Day 4 – June 13, 1991
It wasn’t much of a drive the next morning to arrive at the top of Brasstown Bald, the high point of Georgia. At 4,783 feet, this was by far the highest point of my trip so far. This summit had a lookout tower, and a paved road all the way to the top. Most of Georgia’s mountains are way up at its north end, close by Tennessee and South Carolina, and this one was to be found squarely in the Chattahoochee National Forest.
What to do next? Using a series of back roads, I made my way by degrees into South Carolina and drove to the top of its high point, something called Sassafras Mountain. It was only a hundred miles, all of it along winding mountain roads, very scenic. This one too was a drive-up, and it sat right on the boundary between the Carolinas.
It was still early. I turned the car around and, once down the mountain, headed north. A mile later, I rolled into North Carolina. This was a big deal for me, as I had now been in all 50 states in the USA, one of my goals on this trip. After stopping for some lunch at a Taco Bell, I finished the 80-mile drive to Mount Mitchell. This was a nice, high spot, at 6,684 feet. Now, they say that it’s the highest point east of the Mississippi River, but that’s a matter of perspective. Where the mighty Mississip enters the Gulf is around 90 degrees W longitude, and Mitchell is, in fact, the highest point in the lower 48 states east of the Mississippi River. However, the highest point of the territory of Nunavut in Arctic Canada is Barbeau Peak, at 75 degrees W longitude on Ellesmere Island. This puts it way east of the river, around the longitude of New York City, and at a whopping 8,583 feet, it dwarfs Mitchell, so there! By a huge margin, Barbeau is North America’s highest peak east of the Mississippi.
Once done with Mitchell, I headed back down to the freeway and found a cheap motel in some no-name town in North Carolina. It was time to dry out, and most of the room was occupied with my soggy, dirty tent spread out on the beds. A hot shower and a hot meal felt good for a change.
Day 5 – June 14, 1991
This was to be one long day. Once again, I arose early and was on the road. Across the rest of North Carolina, across Virginia and into West Virginia I went. I took the West Virginia Turnpike, a toll road, and it was worth the money – such a mountainous state! Making good time, I entered Maryland and found my way to the state high point, a brushy spot indeed. It was only a scant 300 feet from West Virginia, on a long ridge called Backbone Mountain. The very highest point was called Hoye-Crest, which stood 3,370 feet above the sea.
On I went, now heading into Pennsylvania. By the time I reached Mount Davis, the state high point, it was 4:30 PM. Making my way north up to the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I then headed west to Pittsburgh. Once arrived, my route headed north again – I found a quiet spot in the countryside in which to camp. Fireflies – I hadn’t seem them since my childhood in Québec, and I sat mesmerized in the dark until late. Today had been another 650-mile day, tiring but fulfilling.
Day 6 – June 15, 1991
This would be my shortest and easiest day so far. It didn’t take long to reach Erie, then a hundred miles more put me into Buffalo. I took the time to get an oil change, then crossed into the Great White North at Niagara Falls. By one o’clock I had arrived at the home of my old friend and climbing partner Brian Rundle in Toronto. There, I would meet his wife Linda, his daughter Megan and son Doug for the first time. It was good to be done with all that driving, a total of 3,400 miles – now for some R and R with friends.
Day 7, 8, 9 – June 16, 17, 18 1991
These next days were fun. Brian and I went bouldering at a place called Sunset Rock. Along with his daughter, we visited the huge Royal Ontario Museum. It was enjoyable for a while, but after hours of Etruscan pots and 13th-century Italian armor, it became tiring. Mostly we just relaxed and got caught up. On the evening of the 18th, Johanna flew in via Dallas and settled in for a while.
Day 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 – June 19, 20, 21, 22, 23
These were relaxing and enjoyable days. Among the things we did to pass the time and create lasting memories were: a trip to the CN Tower and the downtown area; a visit to the zoo; rock-climbing at Rattlesnake Point and Sunset Rock; bike riding. Johanna, Linda and Megan visited Niagara Falls. In short, we had a good time together.
The day came when it was time for us to leave. You might well wonder why we’d traveled all the way from Tucson to Toronto in order to fly to Buenos Aires – it doesn’t make much sense to travel away from your destination, only to double back. Here’s my best explanation.
While in Tucson, we learned that Canadian Airlines International was inaugurating non-stop service from Toronto to Buenos Aires. Not only were they offering an outrageously-low fare for the flight, but in addition were giving so many airline miles (known back then as frequent-flier miles) to early customers such as ourselves that we could redeem them for a free flight later on. (In fact, less than a year later, I redeemed my miles from this one flight for a free round-trip flight from Los Angeles to Vancouver). Just as importantly, though, was the fact that Johanna had a chance to meet Brian and his family, and we got to spend so much quality time with them.
It was now time to begin the next phase of our journey, and we were excited about it.
Stay tuned for the next installment of the story.