Northern Ontario - Day 2

Morning came early. Unfortunately, so did the full, unforgiving light of day — which revealed that the hotel room was somehow even worse than I remembered. Impressive, really.

And then… I spotted clothes on the floor beside the bed.

Not mine.

I did not ask questions. I did not seek answers. I simply chose peace.

The bathroom situation? Absolutely not. There are limits, and that shower was one of them. I opted out. Instead, I heated up a can of soup in the microwave (a bold culinary start to the day), packed up my things, and got out of there as quickly as humanly possible.

Overnight, about a foot of snow had quietly buried the town — and my car — like some kind of frozen ambush. But the morning sun was out, bright and optimistic, like it hadn’t just witnessed the crime scene I woke up in. It felt like a reset. A “new day, new decisions” kind of vibe.

Adventure was calling, and I was more than ready to answer.

I drove on to Wawa, where I stopped, of course, for the obligatory photos with the giant goose. It felt like a small victory. Proof that I was, in fact, out here doing this. I even sat in my car for a bit and sketched — which felt grounding, like reconnecting with myself in the middle of all this motion.

Somewhere along the drive, my six-CD changer — loaded with well-loved relics from my “old life” — started working its magic. Suddenly, I was back in my university years. It’s wild how music can do that — just pull you through time without warning. One song in, and you’re not on a snowy highway anymore, you’re somewhere else entirely, surrounded by old memories and past versions of yourself.

So I drove, singing my heart out to an audience of trees, snowbanks, and the occasional passing truck.

By that night, I made it to the Comfort Inn in Dryden, Ontario — and let me tell you, after the previous night, the bar was on the floor. And yet, this place soared above it. It was exactly what the name promised: comfort. Glorious, beautiful, clean comfort.

I wasted no time turning my hotel room into a mini art studio — sketches out, paints ready. It felt good to create again, even just a little.

And then… the sheets. Crisp. Clean. White. I don’t think I’ve ever been so emotionally affected by bedding.

After a heavenly hot shower (truly life-changing), I climbed in and let the day finally catch up with me.

With the feeling I had survived Day two: slightly cleaner, and significantly more appreciative of decent accommodations, those clean, crisp sheets lulled me into slumber...