As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I spent the summer of 2014 working in Alberta. I had a great time. I love the west coast (I guess Alberta classifies as just west coast-ish, but it’s close enough) – mountains, ocean, big trees, how can you go wrong? During my time in Alberta, I met numerous BC- and Albert-ites that referred to Ontario as “Onterrible”. Admittedly, that was something that I had not heard before, and I found it a little funny, if not also a little hurtful (in a light, prickly sort of way). Some time during the summer, I was also introduced to the moniker: west cost, “best coast”. I, of course, laughed it off. For some reason, whether in Canada or the U.S., there seems to be some unspoken coast-to-coast rivalry – that whole “east versus west” thing. Ontario will always be my home, and I love it with unreserved passion.
Okay, all of that aside, the west coast offers some seriously spectacular views. A week ago, I took a brief trip through the Mojave and Death Valley (alright, so maybe I stopped in Vegas too). The trip was remarkably hot, dry, and beautiful.
There were instances when I thought our 2002 Ford Focus would sputter and implode. Luckily, we had about 6 liters of water in the trunk and triple A service (although, cellular service was spotty and unreliable). As much as I like the desert, I couldn’t help but think that the planet would be an insufferable place if it became one big scorched plane. This imagery seemed rather relevant and poignant as California continues to experience a long drought.
Oh yes, and I became reacquainted with my bovine, west coast friends.