Highways To Fairways

Home. (we live at a gas station?)

Phase One is complete. The rabbit is back in the cage. We are home, anticipating Phase Two (the networking networks stage).

To summarize an adventure like this is like asking a grandmother who her favourite grandchild is. There was simply way too much that happened to pinpoint an exact moment. Suffice it to say there was pretty much no non-memorable event.

Here’s the trip, all tolled:
Duration: 28 days
Kilometres logged: 10,000
Provinces visited: Five (Ontario, BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba)
States visited: Ten (Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho and Washington)
Time Zones visited: Four (all of ‘em)
Golf Courses visited: Six (Lake James GC, Brickyard Crossing, Coeur D’Alene, Osoyoos, Stewart Creek, Dinosaur Trail)
Bands seen: at least six
Newspaper articles: six
Radio interviews: two
Karaoke nights attended: three
T-Shirts given out: 144
Stops at The Flying J: five
Friends made: immeasurable

If I haven’t mentioned it before we are deeply indebted (and partially in debt as well) to all those friends and sponsors who made this whole thing possible. It was amazing to see the type of backing we accrued in just a few short weeks. While part of that can be attributed to our adorable powers of persuasion a lot of it simply is the result of living in - and close to - a tight-knit community that always seems to support its own. Special thanks goes out to Jurgen Haedicke and his wife for allowing us to borrow and “decorate” his van with our various corporate logos. Thanks to them we had a traveling place of residence for almost a month.

Lastly, to crown some champions.

Wayde (Drama) wins in the amount of items lost or damaged. Jay made a late charge but Drama held on for the win.
Drama also wins hours slept (I was a distant third). Jay also made a significant charge near the end of the tour to claim the crown but Drama wins for sheer volume.
Jay wins for washrooms destroyed; Drama a somewhat distant second. I was lapped in this regard.
Appetites? Too close to call. A photo finish between Jay and Drama.
Golf balls in the water? I win.
Golf balls in the sand traps? I also win, by a fairly substantial margin.
Best overall golfer? Drama and I graded ourselves in a different way; by the amount of great shots we made, which were few and far between but sweet when they happened. I think we both had a good half dozen miraculous shots during the trip. The rest were very forgettable. By my count that’s a tie.

So keep in touch. Tell us (occasionally) you still love us. We need the input and the encouragement.

Shiny, Drama and Flying J

the happy trio

Dateline September 24: Downtown Winnipeg

where we came from, not where we're headed

The tour draws to a close and further east daily. We are in downtown Winnipeg tonight, three days from the finish line. Our rationale was to avoid a hurried rush home. Why blaze through so much potentially interesting geography? The trip is as much about the people as it is about the places. Call it self-indulgence, if you will. We simply see it as doing the most logical thing possible.

Tomorrow we head for Thunder Bay and the long drive through Ontario. It’ll be interesting for Drama and I since I’ve never been this far up in the province and it’ll be a great chance to see how big this place really is. Saturday has us in The Soo (likely) and the last day has us finally pulling in to Haliburton. Being the rockstars we are, we have a big day planned on Monday with at least one interview and photo op dealie. Might as well suck the juice out of this orange while it lasts.

Then the real work in this puppy begins: the post-production and editing. We hope you show as much interest in that phase as you have in this one.

PS Tonight: two beds, three guys. Could be interesting..

So here we are in the parking lot of the Wal Mart in Regina Saskatchewan. We had heard (and seen) during this trip about how much the big mega corporation loves RVs. I suppose they’re smart enough to know that smelly overnight campers have next-day needs like deodorant, fresh water and the occasional toilet. We plan to take advantage of at least two of them.

parking lot update

Last night had me reaching a bit of a milestone on this trip. All voyage long I’ve been pleading whining about my desire to ride a horse and last night the dream came to fruition after meeting some really nice Drumheller residents in the form of Tessa, Lance and Vicki. Tessa, as luck would have it owns two horses. One is Sam a painted horse who stands a statuesque 14 hands tall and Rudy, a small Shetland pony, who is both industrious and adorable.

the unknowns: Vicki, Lance and Tessa

After spending an inordinate amount of time at Tessa (and Vicki’s) place of work (big clue: it rhymes with Hawston Cheeza) we were invited over to her farm for - you guessed it - a midnight ride. In all honesty I was the only one riding since (apparently) we needed two cameramen to record the nights events. I figured their interest in camera work was based on the hope of me being bucked, slammed or thrown into the wall (never happened).

I remained on Sam’s back for probably a good 20 minutes; all the time Sam ate grass keeping me squarely upright. I did ride bareback which made me feel slightly more masculine although the fact that Tessa was leading us both around like some sort of pony ride ate into that rationale a little. Still it was awesome that someone would go out of her way to satisfy some crazy Ontarions’ deep-seated desire gives Drumheller a huge thumbs up in our books.

For those of you more into visuals than in my hyperbole, here’s some shots:

angled for your pleasure

the view from the back. (I didn't drive today!)

In some ways the Drumheller Golf and Country Club has always been central to this trip. While we had targeted Indianapolis’ Brickyard Crossing and Idaho’s Coeur D’Alene we’ve always known for this to succeed we would need a strong and interesting Canadian component. It is a Canadian-based show after all and what better way to generate interest than to showcase a relatively-unknown Canadian gem?

Drumheller, for those who don’t know about it, is not for the (golfing) faint of heart. It is built amidst the Badlands of southern Alberta and, for those who don’t know a Badland from a Goodland, “Badland” equates to hidden archaic buried dinosaur fossils.

Exhibit A

The golf course kind of sneaks up on you. The front nine play like any other place you’ve played; nice, tree-lined, and relatively-flat. That quaint feeling of solace leaves you rather quickly after exiting the fairly innocuous tunnel that separates the front nine from the ominous back nine. Playing Drumheller - hole 10 to hole 18, at least - is akin to a scared child lost in a horror house. You will hold your breath at least five times and you will ask to return to the clubhouse at least once.

Those who brave the onslaught however, will be treated to golfing the way it must have been played when caveman roamed the earth and nobody could break 120. Drumheller demands your attention and your best shot. Guarantee: You will lose golf balls. The line between safe and out-of-bounds is razor-thin and this (believe me) is an beguiling enticement, not a detriment.

Miss a shot and you WILL be fossilized.

Whatever great score you might have had on the front can be destroyed in an instant on the unforgiving back nine but don’t take this to mean that your game WILL spin hopelessly out of control, just that it might. And, if it does, take solace in the fact you are enjoying the day in one of this nation’s most naturally-splendid and intriguing surroundings. A lost ball - looked at optimistically - is just a great chance to find another dinosaur bone.

she was never seen again (until we found her in the clubhouse later)

Lastly here’s a picture you really need to investigate.

three guys, happy for some reason

Wayde has an update on this in Facebook. Curious? Click..

So we made the arduous journey from Calgary to Drumheller today.

Badlands, good vehicle

Arduous only in the fact there are no turns or curves on the road between the two cities(?). I guess I’m a turn type of guy and the driving inertia got so bad I decided to get up and make myself a sandwich to cure the boredom and tame the hunger that dwelled within my gullet (”stomach” for those not used to hearing or using archaic words). Luckily the cruise control was working properly and the boys were both asleep so no one was hurt in the making of this show or that sandwich.

Calgary - before I get too far into the next part of the story - was our home for two days. We ended up seeing the town on both Saturday and Sunday night (Drama, sadly, did not make it out on Saturday - something about reorganizing his wallet) and, while Saturday we saw the final concert of a legendary local band, there was very little to do as far as nighttime entertainment goes in Cowtown. This is not a damning proclamation; more a statement of the obvious. If it involves cattle or hockey I think this is your town. It never wants to be, say, Toronto. That’s why they like who they are and why, subsequently WE like who we are as well.

On to Drumheller..

which of the three is oldest? heaviest? smartest?

Cool place, this. I could call it a small town but, considering where two of us come from, this is like Times Square. Interestingly in the short time we’ve been here we’ve already met at least three people who are from Ontario (Mark, who wants our jobs; Bonnie; who gives out cookies and Tracey, who actually used to work for a taxi company in Haliburton). We met her and her sister Penny (long-lost sisters who got reacquainted through Facebook) while touring the Tyrrell Dinosoaur Museum. In all reality we never toured the Museum itself since it was Monday and evidently they’re closed on Mondays (I’ll never get to pet a dinosaur).

Penny, Drama, Tracey, football

While touring the facility we were able to scope out tomorrow’s quarry, the Dinosaur Trail Golf Club. At least 38 people on this tour so far have promoted Dinosaur Trail to us. Their only warnings were to (a) bring lots of golf balls and (b) not have any visible raw meat (if a T-Rex sees it you’re toast). We look forward to the challenge.

Tuesday looks like a busy day so far. In addition to the golf, we’re going to be on local radio here in Drumheller at 7:30 am (Moose FM, please don’t be jealous) and we’re slated to be interviewed by the local newspaper. They are also unconfirmed rumours about a celebratory parade in our honour.

Lastly, in case you’re curious, here are my feet:

(taken from above)

So last night was a western jaunt into Banff. Even though we’re committed to essentially heading east from this point onwards we were too teasingly close to a destination like Banff to NOT head further west and further north. When you’ve traveled some 6500 kms already what’s another 200?

Banff’s cool in a amusement park sort of way. The deer there are extremely comfortable being around humans. I even saw one try to get on the bus but he was denied entry (I’m thinking because of the racks and their penchant for tearing seat vinyl).

This morning we headed to Canmore to check out a golf course we had been recommended to visit twice during this trip. The place is called Stewart Creek Golf Course and its smack dab in the middle of the Three Sisters Mountain range (not sure which sister is closest to the golf club).

the clubhouse

The course - as was the case with pretty much every course we’ve visited thus far - has a visual backdrop so mesmerizing you can’t help but become a little distracted while shooting (upside: great for blaming terrible shots on).

Check this out:

if it hits a goat it's considered out-of-play

Whereas Osoyoos had the splendor of a dustbowl backdrop, Stewart Creek is surrounded by rock and lots of it. Luckily you’re assigned a Sherpa as your round commences.

Another shot:

Elk are considered "natural hazards"

Thanks to Greg for being such a gracious host, and an impromptu Alberta tour guide. If we have the best job in the world then I’m thinking Greg has the second best.

Finally, on two totally unconnected sidenotes, we stopped in at the Olympic Park on our way into Calgary where we saw all the old venues and took some shots and video of some bikers performing some ambitious vert action:

..and secondly we found the cutest waitress of the trip so far (I mean “I found” - no need for anyone at home to worry needlessly about the other two hunks on this trip) in a small breakfast cafe (the name escapes me) in Canmore, Alberta. She was french. Need I say more?

Mucho apologies for no update yesterday Blame it on this:

Where? Who knows

In truth this rather exquisite but remote little corner of paradise is called Fernie (British Columbia) Mountain National Park and, as beautiful as it was, it had neither hydro nor internet access (and eventually very little heat). The interesting part of this little excursion is that I somehow managed to produce a cartoon for Sun Media in the back of a dimly-lit van but couldn’t file it till the following morning at a local Super 8 Motel. Makes you wonder how the pilgrims ever managed to send email.

The night at the campground was again one of heavy male-bonding. One could say that’s simply the result of semi-sober three guys in a pristine, life-defining setting but a pessimist would argue that there are simply few other options.

Drama turned in first (which, if you’re a betting person, is like picking the #3 horse to win when there is only one competitor running). I turned in next, leaving Jason to serenade both me and any renegade bears in the area. Mehtinks that scary rationale got the better of him eventually because Jason never settled into the tent with me. I assumed the bear - angry with his constant late night guitar riffs - finally got annoyed enough and devoured him whole. Only in the morning did I discover that Jason (aka the infamous Flying J) took the safer but more uncomfortable position in the passenger seat of the van for the night (Drama splays himself across the rear of the vehicle making it totally impossible to share slumbering space on this or any other night of the trip).

I fought frostbite most of the night but managed to make it through in one (rather stiff) piece. I wasn’t about sissify and beg for sleeping space in an already crowded vehicle. A guy has his standards.

Our plan, after exiting Vancouver, was to mosey on over to Banff taking the alternative south BC (less hilly) route. Our brakes had been thoroughly tested earlier on in the trip and we all felt (after consulting a mechanically-inclined mountain goat) that this was the wimpy wise way out.

Gratuitous scenery shots:

everyone lean left!

more stuff to look at

And lookee here..

The World's Biggest Truck (so they say)

As night falls on Day 18 of the voyage we are settled in Banff, Alberta, a town somewhere between a natural wonder and an amusement park. Our plan is to take in the town tonight and decide tomorrow when to again proceed east (possibly Sunday).

looking west, Banff is waving us in

As far as the golf updates go our aim is to do Drumheller Monday or Tuesday and we may play a place in Canmore Sunday. This remains to be decided (pretty much the de rigueur of this entire escapade).

Lastly, we haven’t been kind to nature and nature hasn’t been kind to us. She shows us nothing except a few measly deer (we think they were paid) so we return the favour by decimating her insect population.

Evidence, Exhibit #12

I mean, fair is fair. Give us a cougar and the killing stops. Promise.

It’s 7:30 Wednesday night, Pacific Standard Time no less (I’m loving being the last in Canada to see the sun fall each day) and, while I type, my boys are dead to the world in front of me, snoring like I suspect a toucan would. If there IS a consistency in all of this it IS that we all are great snorers. In some great celestial way I think it must balance out; so much snoring it almost becomes white noise. It’s my theory at least.

I have become really close to Drama (Wayde) and Flying J (Jason) throughout this trip. While the image of us stabbing each other in our sleep might appeal on a how-can-you-live-together level, truth is we’re growing closer the longer this thing goes. And, in that, there’s a certain sadness as the tour draws to a close. I don’t want it to end and when I say “it” I mean it all, everything we’ve created in this magnificent endeavor. These guys are like brothers to me.

I kind of knew that about Wayde already (the noses are a dead giveaway) but Jason was simply a friend of a friend when this trip commenced but has now become a legitimate friend and professional colleague. I guess this simply means - like virtually everything else during this exquisite epic - it was meant to be and, in the biggest picture, this relationship and this bond doesn’t have to end. The show, the concept and the connection will continue when Highways To Fairways goes from being a dream built on the wings of ambition to a viable business and lifestyle for three guys who hate gravity and everything that limits us as humans. Our synergy is potent.

Thanks boys.

If one things becoming very evident during this trip it’s the importance and willingness of the team to allow things to happen as they happen. We learned that lesson early of course and since then I think the trip’s been based simply on a loose schedule and pure providence.

This leg of the tour has in Osoyoos BC, a tidy little town (more a small city compared to what I’m used to) that’s on the southern tip of the Okanagan Valley and actually the northern tip of a desert climate that stretches all the way to Arizona. Yes I did say “desert climate” - in Canada no less. Look at these hills:

Sort of like an Oreo. Brown outsides, green in the middle.

Just to rub it in we were told today people here golf 10 months a year, only stopping for two months to keep us from hating them even more for winter.

Anyway, so back to this play-it-where-lays mantra I was blabbering on about. We had originally planned to play a certain other course in Osoyoos but ended up - because of, yes, a slight change in logistics - playing a totally different golf club, specifically the Osoyoos Golf and Country Club a thirty six hole gem on the western side of town (the hill to the right, looking south).

What you have to appreciate about a place like this is that we had to keep reminding ourselves that we were still indeed in Canada. The hills surrounding the whole area are parched and arid (I swear I saw a tumbleweed) reminiscent of something Wile E. Coyote would call home.

Take a look:

"Your ball's beside that there buzzard."

Here though, is the cool thing: While the hills are indeed tall dust bowls, contrast that picture and that notion with this..

And this..

The pinnacle part of the day was the view from the 12th hole, a view so beautiful you’d have to be dead or foolish to not be humbled by it. Exhibit A:

For a road and an experience not expected, you learn to accept things as they make their way to you. Three cheers for the vast unknown.

I guess, if there’s one regret from today it’s that we never got to see any of the rattlesnakes in the area immediately surrounding the course, not so much for the zoological component of the story but because I hear they’re incredible at reading greens.

So we camped Monday night out in a very small remote location in Princeton BC, which is some 2 hours from our intended destination of Osoyoos. The campground - if we can call it that - was very quiet (which we loved) with very few residents (except for four legged ones) there.

Photo, Evidence Exhibit #1:

Wayde attempts his latest pickup line

Ultimately there is at least one serious downside when camping in dark, remote areas of the world and that would be the noticeable lack of light (sun or otherwise). Normally this is a very appealing quality, except when you’re eating or set to eat - in this case hotdogs, or rather, INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED HOT DOGS. It would help to know things like this. Hygienic plastic wrapping is meant strictly as meal prep, not to remain on during the fire-cooking process. Yes Virgina, we all ate cooked hot dogs STILL WRAPPED IN PLASTIC.

Did we feel it afterward? Probably (the complete A to Z biological process still has yet to be completed). We’ll keep you updated on that one.

So were you aware Canada has a desert area? We didn’t either but we’re smack dab in it as we prepare to play The Osoyoos Golf and Country Club Wednesday. We’re surrounded by parched hills and an arid climate. There’s a palm tree out the window if you can believe it. If Vancouver felt Florida this feels like Mexico. Too cool that this exists in Canada.

She's parked and parched

Wednesday we play Osoyoos, then onto somewhere more north and more east. Jason does the Moose update tomorrow.

This is Jason.. no idea who the other ugly guy is..

guy and other guy