MARATHON 1994

"Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.." -Erol Ozan

Marathon. Ontario. 1994 . Thunder Bay. Terry Fox Monument of Hope. Middle of August. Hot.  Middle of nowhere.  Road stretching out to nothing. Forest fires in the far off distance. Very far off.  Just a few whiffs. (This is the only pic I have  of Marathon on our move from Kingston, Ontario to Edmonton Alberta. ) We decided to drive.We can take everything with us, we said. It will be easy, we thought.

We started at Kingston (A) and got as far as Marathon . 2848 Km (1769 miles) Drenching August day. Before the car broke down , at 5pm, in the small village of Marathon. Two adults. Two small kids. Two confused cats in their kennels. And all of our worldy goods.Including one accordion ( yes, accordion), one violin, one suitcase case of stamps, coins, snacks, colouring books, cat litter, used and not used, 

cat chow,  crackers, apples, hats, sunscreen...... Sun setting already in the treetops. The cats yowled in the warm car with the windows open.

We were moving  to Edmonton. A trip of 3548 Km (2204 miles) from Kingston. In the middle of August .1994. Around this time. 26 years ago.

We broke down at a tiny intersection. One store still open. Only one store to be seen.  People came over to look.Then went on their way.

Back and forth  we shuffled.  They let us use the phone. No cell phones of course. Hung up on red tape. Hung up on operators who had no idea where we were. I knew where we were. Trees. Dark coming. Cats needing a potty break. Growing cooler. Mountains  colder.

Too bad. Said the local mechanic. We don't stock alternators. Next town over.  Don't know how you're gonna get there.  Might be able to get one. Four days  maybe. You might have to spend the night in the car. Store opens at 6am. 

Back and forth to the phone in the store. Till it closed.

Two adults. Two kids. Two cats. Coyotes.

Yep. them be coyotes, we were assured. They don't come into town. Much. Unless they be short of food.

6:30 Dark. Streets quiet. Tow truck was supposed to be coming. Supposed to.....

Never came. The coyotes sang their night song. 

Mechanic came by again. To see us waiting in the dark.

Friends of his, who had a tow truck, were up at the local bar.  Only one in town.

Having dinner. Maybe they would help.  Otherwise nothing for four days. He went to get the tow Truck guy. The cats stuck their paws out of their cage...….

Tow truck guy came to haul us up to the bar.  Last one of its kind. Broken neon sign   flickered above the door. It was packed.

Tow truck guy left us outside, and went in to finish his meal. We toddled in. Then were promptly shooed out by the cook. No kids. No cats. Waitress was kind to us, said we could sit at the back.  

Everyone  returned to eating. Conversations . Coffee poured. We waited for Tow Truck guy  to finish eating.  I could hear the coyotes in the valley.They sounded closer. 

Finally we were on our way. After  midnight.  We squashed into the cab. No seat belts. Mist settled down around the hwy. Hit a moose here, last week, said Tow Truck Guy , as we tore down the narrow hwy. His cab and car load swung  from right to left.  He went faster and faster. Yep, he said hit a moose. Came right up off the side and stepped into my  right of way.

     Great. Coyotes. Mist. Moose. Two cats. Two adults. Two kids.

I turned to see the cats perched up at the edge of the window in our trailing car. They were yowling at the yellow light swirling above the cab.  At the next town, some two hours away, we were deposited. Motel. Heaven. Safe.  The alternator came the next day to the local garage. Not four days. And we were off once more......

Two cats. Two kids. Two adults. And a whole lot of coyotes left in our wake at Marathon.And we never hit one Moose.....

Photographs 2020