Whether by choice or by circumstance, I have seldom travelled. Until this year, I had only been in a different time zone once, and that for only a few hours before I raced back for dear life. I spent a week or two in Florida when I was 9, and have visited family in Temiscaming and Montreal. Some people never leave their homes at all, so I probably shouldn't complain; but the point is that I developed a yearning to visit a place that looks nothing like what I'm used to.
For years I have had a half-baked scheme to travel across North America by car. In particular, I wanted to see the American Southwest, with all its deserts and mesas and cacti. I couldn't think of anything more different from the southern Ontario landscape I've never been more than a few hundred kilometres from.
On May 19, 2001, I began my lone trek across North America. I had originally fantasized about driving all the way to California, back up to Vancouver, across Canada, and back to Toronto. It became rapidly evident that such a trip could not be done comfortably in the three weeks of vacation days I had accumulated, so I pared down my plans. I would travel south through the eastern U.S. visiting friends, heading for New Orleans. From there I would cut across Texas towards the Grand Canyon, and cut a straight line across the U.S. back home.
This site chronicles my experiences as I undertook this loose itinerary.
