If I haven’t already mentioned it, I am half French-Canadian on my dad’s side. In fact my dad’s entire side of the family lives in Quebec, and for the five days between Christmas and New Years, we took a family vacation to visit family. I’m realizing now (over two weeks later) that I forgot to write about our little trek to the great white north.
Overall it was your pretty standard family vacation; eat tons of food, make some conversation with relatives you haven’t seen in six plus months, and just relax. We did pretty much the exact same trip last year, so my brother an I expected the same thing, mainly that the outdoor rink (ODR) would be frozen and ready to go. Well the timing was way off, and it didn’t dip below zero for long enough for the water to freeze. All we wanted to do was play some shinny, maybe go for a ripper out on the pond, eh. But it unfortunately didn’t happen this year. Instead, my brother and I had a bit of an adventure.
So in the little town where my grandmother lives there is this river that runs through it. At one point the river is pretty much a gorge, with really steep rocks and currents. Here is what it looks like in the winter time.
Pretty intense right? Yet strikingly beautiful.
Anyway, so my brother and I were walking up on the snowbanks with our Tim Hortons cups. I should back up, as of about a year, there is a Tim Hortons in my grandmothers town. If you haven’t heard of Timmy Ho’s, look it up because you’re missing out. Anyway, we decided to first walk all the way to Tims and then head down to the river and meet our parents, who were looping around in the opposite direction. And back to the story.
So we were walking down the snowbank, and suddenly we see the bridge where we knew our parents would be walking across, and low and behold, guess who we see? Our parents! Of course we screamed out so they notices us, my mom took some pictures, but in them we are just red and blue specks against the white background. We kept walking until we got to the bridge, and we realized then that there wasn’t an easy way to get up to the main road where our parents were, and that the two options were to climb up the hill next to the bridge, or head back where we came from and take a half hour detour. We went for the shorter, more immediate route.
As you can see, it was quite the struggle to make it up the hill with our Tim Hortons in tact, and the hill itself was pretty steep. I went first and made it with ease, but my brother took his time and was a bit more tactical and careful to his approach. We’ve been to that bridge and the river multiple times, but neither of us had gone when there was that much snow. The river was so pretty even though the currents were racing below us. Contrary to what our parents think, we never went close enough to the edge to ever be in danger, and I know they’re reading this, so hej mamma och pappa!
The moral of the story is that even though you’ve been somewhere multiple times before, you’ll always find something different about it. Do things when you least expect them, because that’s when you might find the most rewarding things.