Road Warrior - Day 1

In typical Kelly fashion, my “early departure” did not, in fact, happen early. Classic. I got up and immediately decided what I really needed before leaving was… a press release. Because obviously. Never mind that I had no real idea what a press release actually is — but a little frantic Googling later and voilà, I had something that looked official enough. I’m an artist, after all, and creativity is my specialty.  I literally create something out of nothing for a living.

Feeling accomplished, I went to print them… and got exactly five and a half copies before my printer gave up on life. Out of ink. Of course. Fine. PDFs exist for a reason. I took that as my cue to stop fighting technology, did one last sweep of my packing, and finally committed to leaving.

In my abundant spare time (read: absolutely none), I had also been designing an eco-friendly clothing line — because clearly, planning a cross-country trip wasn’t quite enough to keep things interesting. The whole concept leaned heavily into Canadian pride, with a healthy dose of sarcastic wit… essentially, clothing that sounded like me.

The plan was to launch it before heading out on the western leg of this trip — you know, casually fund an entire adventure through creativity and ambition. Simple.

Except… not simple.

Between supplier issues, shipping delays, and the general chaos that seems to follow me when I’m on a timeline, the whole thing stalled out. Hard. Not exactly ideal timing. I made the call (a reluctant, slightly dramatic one) to put the clothing launch on hold until I could actually do it properly — instead of rushing it out into the world half-baked.

So, with my brilliant funding plan temporarily shelved, the goal shifted.

From “make money on the road” to “spend as little as humanly possible and hope for the best.”

Which, honestly, feels much more on brand for this trip anyway.

This trip is very much “budget: chaos.” The grants I applied for won’t come through for months, so it’s me, my determination, and a questionably assembled food supply. I’ve got a five-gallon jug of water with a rechargeable pump (feeling very prepared, very wilderness-adjacent), plus the results of me aggressively eating down my pantry for the past month. Cans of soup, chili, KD, crackers, random non-perishables, beef sticks… and, for balance, apples and carrots. Health.

I reached out to friends along the way and so many offered places to crash. Honestly, that part alone is carrying me emotionally.

Quick stop in Lindsay to deposit my carefully hoarded rolled coins (humbling), and I was finally on the road by 1 PM. Not early, but technically still the same day, so I’m counting it.

Driving was decent. I tried to make up time like I hadn’t just lost half a day to a DIY press release situation. Stopped in Sudbury to see the Big Nickel — because you have to — and grabbed some photos. Definitely painting that later. Chatted with a few locals, then back on the road before I could get too comfortable.

As I was heading out of town I saw a sign for the A.Y. Jackson Lookout, and after a quick google search revealed it was open! After a short jaunt it turns out google doesn't always know what it is talking about.  Four feet of snow covering the exit to the lookout stopped me from viewing whatever the lookout how to offer.  

Then: snowstorm. Because why not. Pushed through to Sault Ste. Marie and rolled in sometime after midnight, absolutely exhausted, running on fumes and stubbornness. Got the last hotel room available, which should have been my first warning.

I hauled all my paint and art supplies inside so they wouldn’t freeze (priorities), and then finally looked around.

Oh. Oh no.

The room was… rough. Like, “has this seen a cleaning product this decade?” rough. Burns on the bedspread, stains everywhere, bathroom questionable at best. TripAdvisor, I would like a word. This was not a “great for solo travelers” situation. This was a “double-check your life choices” situation.

Pulled back the sheets on the first bed — dirt. Just… dirt. Actual visible dirt. Amazing.

At that point, I was too tired to even be properly disgusted. I just adapted. Socks pulled up over my jogging pants. Hoodie on. Hood up. Strings tightened like I was sealing myself into a human cocoon. Survival mode, but make it cozy.

Meanwhile, the walls were apparently made of paper, because there were loud voices and music blasting like I was in the middle of a very low-budget nightclub.

So I cranked my rain sounds app to maximum volume, lay there in my layered armour r of clothing, and thought, “Well… this is day one.”

And then, I prayed to the sleep gods to take me away....