from one lake to 10,000 lakes to infinite prairies.

From the Ontarian lake to Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes, to the eternal vastness of prairies. The sun is shining, and that is currently making the otherwise lacklustre cities of this mostly barren area of North America somewhat enjoyable.

The three days spent at Jordan’s lake in Fenelon Falls, Ontario was some good clean, chilled out fun. It was particularly exciting given that I hadn’t expected the cottage to be as picturesque and homely as it was, located on a beautiful lake with row boats, rocking chairs and more nautical paraphernalia than you could shake a stick at. Time was spent mostly eating, in all honesty. The day we arrived we had a massive BBQ and it didn’t really let up until we left. I’m surprised I didn’t leave the cottage with a dose of diabetes. On the second day we engaged in the fabulous past-time of all-day drinking, which obviously was going to involve some kind of dip in the lake that resulted in temperatures so cold I developed a headache and Rob couldn’t feel his feet for 15 minutes post-dip. It was definitely worth the pain just to run along the jetty and bomb in, mind. The whole trip out to the lake just felt like a big family trip with all eight of us just cooking, drinking, talking and playing board games for a few days. I even learnt how to play chess.

On the Thursday morning we were forced to wake up at an un-Godly 6.30am to head back to Toronto for our bus to Chicago and the beginning of our 30 days of the Discovery Pass. This journey was absolutely awful and left me dreading each subsequent journey. All the way to Detroit the journey was all well and fine, then we had to change to a new bus in Detroit where we were the last to get on, leaving me sitting next to a really fat man who took up half of my seat along with the whole of his and as I sat down he made absolutely no effort to make any room for me. Then even before we left the station in Detroit he began snoring, and it didn’t let up for 5 and a half hours when we arrived in Chicago. I don’t think I’ve ever hated someone so much who had not even uttered a sentence to me. It was all worth it though, as Chicago was an absolutely brilliant time. My experience there was largely defined by meeting a girl called Katie, although the other Couchsurfers were all so friendly and accommodating, determined to make our time in Chicago an enjoyable one. They showed us around the city, fed us cinnamon buns and on first night they threw a 21^st birthday party for their friend. And they could sure keep up with us, drink-wise. It was really enjoyable to see the city from a different perspective based upon the social aspects of meeting people that live there, which is something I will probably be able to say for every city we stop in. They even took us up to the top of the Hard Rock Hotel where we tried to make it to the roof, but to no avail. Nevertheless, the views from up there were fantastic. Katie and I had the pleasure of getting to see Grown Ups on their home turf in a second story warehouse west of the city in a very dodgy end of town, which got me further upset about the lack of similar DIY spaces in England. Castevet made an unexpected, yet highly appreciated guest appearance and Grown Ups were mostly too drunk to impress, but enjoyable nonetheless. The journey home consisted of us missing our last train and have the taxi driver (who took about an hour to come) striking the fear of God into us by telling us how dangerous the area was and that we shouldn’t have been there. He said he only took the call when he saw the surname as Slovick then proceeded to tell us about various murders in the news or among his friends. I'm kind of glad I didn't know all this when I was waiting around a in a fairly quiet but stricken neighbourhood at 1.30am.

Rob’s 21^st birthday fell upon the Monday we were in Chicago, which resulted in a rather drunk trip to see the Cubs at the Wrigley Field. We concentrated more on actually getting drunk than getting to the game on time. So I think we arrived around the 5^th or 6^th innings and by that time I was inebriated enough to pay very little attention to what was going on in the baseball. I’d hate to be sober watching baseball though. Wrigley Field is one of the oldest grounds in the MLB (after Fenway Park), so it was cool to tick a box and see an old ball park. Particularly entertaining was attempting to initiate baseball chants in football style, it didn’t really work but we got to be obnoxious for fifteen minutes and one guy even had the audacity to tell us it wasn’t football. Cheers, mate. Post-game festivities dissolved into a booze cruise, as expected, and running around Little Italy in the rain desperately trying to find the home of the couchsurfers.

The couchsurfers (minus Rich and missing Sheri): Michael, Meghan, Brett and Katie.

The door that blocked us from getting to the roof of the Hard Rock Hotel.

The famous Chicago deep dish pizza - incredible.

Following Bobby’s birthday celebrations and with slight forlorn we boarded the all-night bus to Minneapolis. This bus wasn’t as bad as the bus from Detroit to Chicago but it was, nevertheless, striving to showcase the dregs of society. For the first couple of hours I had the fortune of sitting next to some agitated man in a Stetson hat, covered in shit tattoos and chewing on tobacco. Fortunately, as we stopped in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and as he boasted about how he had the opportunity to go smoke a ‘doobie’ but that it was fine, because he had a medicinal licence. Thankfully, I got to move and place myself next to the more acceptable Bobby Mayne and the rest of the journey went smoothly but typically sleeplessly. I’ve found myself get used to the fact that sleeping on a coach is never really sleep, it’s just being too tired to keep your eyes open but too aware of everything and uncomfortable to be able to actually sleep, so time kind of goes quickly but you’re still absolutely shattered come 7am when you have to disembark.

Our arrival in the Twin Cities was met with an interesting taxi ride by some fifty-something man with a mullet who claimed to be a founding member of The Replacements. Allegedly, he was the member of the band that was replaced, leading to coining of the band name. Whether this was true or not, I don’t know. But he claimed to have secret tapes of The Replacements recordings that he was going to make a whole bunch of money from, comparing it to Jimi Hendrix’s secret tapes, or something. At 7am it was all a bit much to comprehend, and it turns out I’m not very good at answering the question ‘who’s the best rock’n’roll band coming out of Great Britain currently?’. We were pretty happy to arrive at our destination and find our second host, Dom, sitting on his stoop, having not gone to bed, ready to welcome us in. The hospitality continued as it began as Dom threw a feast with beer and ribs (gnocchi for the veggies), giving us a chance to meet a bunch of his friends, as well as his mum and sister. Following that, the four of us and Dom took a trip to see Murder by Death at the Triple Rock Social Club, which is owned by the guys in Dillinger Four. The following day was a trip to the Mall of America, the United States’ biggest shopping centre. Obviously it was ridiculous and contained such novelties as a theme park, aquarium and a house of mirrors. And perhaps even more predictably, we had absolutely no expendable income to buy any crap, so we just walked around and laughed obnoxiously at stupid ‘as seen on TV’ items and shops that seem to simply tailor their marketing unashamedly towards red necks. That night we went to a venue called Nomad to watch Dom’s band, Hardcore Crayons. This place seemed to have one of the most ludicrous drink deals I’ve seen: a tall boy of Pabst (a normal sized can, for the English people), a shot of tequila (which I negotiated to a whiskey with the barman, still keeping well clear of that tequila poison) and a cigarette, all yours for $5. This led to a really fun night, culminating in me having a topless fight with a rather rotund man called Marshall. All in good fun, mind. Dom’s band were also a really great time, too.

The theme park inside the Mall of America.

On the day of all this aforementioned tomfoolery we discovered that the bus to Winnipeg was sadly not an overnight bus, and only one left every day at 8.15am. So after this rather heavy night we had to get up at 7.15am, get all our shit together, shake Dom awake and get to the bus station in time to get our tickets and board. It all got very close as Rich managed to let Dom’s next door neighbour’s dog run loose into the street the moment we were trying to leave. He went off chasing the dog and never actually managed to catch it (it made its way back later on by itself). Either way, we only just made the bus and we became very close to spending another night in Minneapolis, which would have messed up the organisation of couchsurfs. The coach itself was our first day journey, which was scheduled to take around 11 hours, arriving in Winnipeg at 7.30pm. Just our luck that we have some trouble at the border as a guy from the States doesn’t quite pass the security checks on his rather questionable sounding story of a trip to Alaska to retire. Furthermore, when questioned if he had any weapons the man responds ‘I have a knife, and then says, ‘I am allowed to take shotguns over the border, right?’. Not the best things to say to customs officials, and what entails is 3 hours at the border waiting for his three bags to be searched twice through, only for the Greyhound to drive back into America and drop him at a petrol station before continuing on into Canada. So our 11 hour journey becomes 14 hours of watching the endless expanse of prairies fly by, which is impressive for about 3 minutes before it becomes a mind-numbingly dull horizon to gaze at.

last night in town, for real this time.

It’s 2am and this is my last night in Hamilton. We just indulged in some classic 90s action entertainment with Michael Bay’s The Rock and I’m about to go to sleep on a floor that will by no means be my last over the course of the next six weeks. We’re waking up tomorrow and heading off to my friend Jordan’s cottage near Lindsay, Ontario, and I guess you can say that is when the travels begin: 3 May 2010.

It has been a largely stressful week, much due to the fact that my proficiency in being a chronic worrier has come to the forefront. First, there were the final exams. They weren’t too much of a worry, but I did leave my revision for my final exam to the morning of, and went to a keg party the night before, perhaps unwise but it seemed to all pan out quite well in the end. That was then followed by the completely arduous task of moving out, cleaning and deciding what I have room to take with me and what had to be thrown away. Obviously leaving everything to the absolute last minute before having to panic rush to downtown Toronto to see off my parents (who I had a pleasant weekend with wandering about the TO) on to the train west to Vancouver. Then I was pleased to discover that my housemates had rather graciously not bothered to do any cleaning before they left the flat, meaning that it was in an utter state, ready for a ludicrous cleaning charge to be slapped on it, giving McMaster University yet another reason to siphon some money from my dwindling account. So I sped back an hour before the building closed for the summer to do some last gasp cleaning of the mess that my housemates had made and left behind in order to not only save myself the fees but also saving them the fees. A thankless task that left me rather riled and bitter about my residence experience in Canada. Particularly given the incessant noise I had to endure for most of the year from my housemates and their annoying friends who seemed to be able to handle about a quarter of a beer. Once that job was complete I was pleased to discover that I had lost one of the reimbursement cheques from the dentist, leaving me $120 out of pocket and without a permanent address in Canada to have a replacement cheque sent to. Luckily, Rob has family in Vancouver that the cheque can be sent to, but I still haven’t called the insurance company to arrange that. Last, but far from least, was the hassle of sending my luggage home, or, as it turns out, to Philadelphia for me to pick up in June and then take home on the plane. Fed Ex didn’t bother to tell us that they refuse to send personal ‘effects’ via ground mail. Purolator were doing everything to not send our luggage and eventually we had UPS send the luggage, but not before I had to itemise literally everything in the luggage. From 36 pamphlets/books to one stuffed toy octopus. This whole process took around three hours to complete. Now the chronic worrier that I am is going through every worst case scenario regarding my luggage getting lost or slapped with huge custom fees due to me clearly lying about the worth of the contents. Oh, and then there was the endless indecision regarding booking the flights home that led to flight we intended to book going up $50, and then trying to organise various couchsurfs for the cities that we’re visiting very shortly, but I’ll get to that in a bit. Essentially, I’ve had a dense weight on my shoulders for the last week. And I’m relieved that, for the most part, I’m through the thick of it. End rant.

The week has been pretty fun at times though, despite all of the above. I’ve moved in to a posh off-campus student accommodation that some friends live in. Supposedly sleeping on the floor but four of the five nights I managed to swindle a bed. Usually by just being drunk and passing out in Connie’s bed before she had the opportunity to. The goodbyes have been sad and awkward, as goodbyes usually are. And there are certainly many people that I’m gutted I didn’t get to say bye to and will now probably never see again. But I suppose that is part and parcel with studying abroad and making these temporary friends. What has not been particularly exciting has been the diet of baked beans, noodles and stale bagels that I’ve been living on, but it’s all practice for the ludicrious scrape-the-barrel diet that circumstances are forcing me to adopt whilst travelling.

Preparing for our journey west and the south has been getting me super excited. As Rich noted, I’ve assumed some kind of impromptu role as trip secretary trying to organise where we’re staying in every city, but so far the signs are looking promising. Our first stop is Chicago, where we arrive at 5am on the morning of this coming Friday. There we are staying with four students in Little Italy who have all just finished their final exams and also happen to be throwing a house party for their friend’s 21^st birthday the day that we arrive. Some might say ideal. After Chicago we hit Minneapolis where we should be staying with a currently unemployed musician who is playing a show one of the nights we’re there. So hopefully he’ll have a lot of time to show us the sights and sounds of the Twin Cities. Following that we hit the woefully exciting towns of Winnipeg and Regina, which will hopefully surprise us with some good times. Then Calgary where we are due to be staying in the house (mansion) of the CEO of Hockey Canada (the equivalent of the CEO of the FA, for the British), so God only knows what to expect there. I only have best case scenarios running through my mind. From there we aim to make a trip to Banff National Park, then to Vancouver. Then we’ll cross back over the border to Seattle, then to Portland, where I will, fingers crossed, get to see my auntie that I haven’t seen in nigh-on ten years, as she now resides there. I’m very excited to go to the Microcosm Publishing shop there. I’ll no doubt end up buying far more than I can carry. From Portland it all gets a bit hazy, we want to go out to the coast to a small town in either Oregon or California to chill out for a couple of days. Then it’s down through California to the likes of San Francisco, San Diego and LA. From LA, we head to Las Vegas just in time for the England vs. USA game on the 12^th June where we shall no doubt get all rowdy and pissed, hopefully not having to swallow our pride if England fuck it up. From there, the group splits as Rich is gonna fly back to England and Patrick flies to Baltimore to see his wife. Rob and I, meanwhile, fly to Philly on the 14^th June for a few days to, once again, hang out with that lot. That should be a rather awesome finale before catching a flight back to England on the 20^th June, just in time to make it to the Hot Water Music show in Leeds on the 22^nd. No rest for the wicked, eh?

All in all, I’m very excited and hope it all goes swimmingly. I’ll try to keep this as updated as much as I can with all the stories that no doubt develop as time passes and my blood Pabst levels increase.

Smell ya later, Hammertown.