[Author’s note: Please read this with music from your favorite cops show in your head. I recommend CSI or NCIS.]
No pictures today because I’m at a visitor’s centre (yep, centre) in Yoho National Park in Canada. My phone can’t connect without charging me a fortune so the laptop is making this possible.
So here’s the mystery. Since we last chatted, my trip has gone from Glacier National Park in Montana, across the border into Canada where I might have lied about whether I had alcohol, to Waterton, Alberta, Land of Illegal Campgrounds. From Waterton, I went to Banff National Park (you’ll appreciate the pictures when I finally upload them), then to Lake Louise, then back to Banff. Yesterday Bev and I drove from Banff back up to Lake Louise, then to Emerald Lake where we finally got to kayak.
OK, that was to bring you up to speed geographically.
Friday, Oct. 4, Banff, Alberta. Dum, dum, dum.
[Note again: I’m helping you with the ominous music.]
Remember the cool Snack Box that Laura Carter got for me, the box that has saved me from near-starvation more than once, the box that secretly hid this great snack called Scooby Snacks that I’m now hooked on? On Friday, October 4 I noticed that the box had a round hole in it. Odd. But I ignored it.
Saturday, Oct. 5, Lake Louise, Alberta. Dum….
In addition to the hole in the Snack Box, I found wrappers of snacks I hadn’t eaten yet. This is the point where I started to get a little concerned. Bears aren’t going to carefully lift one snack at a time out, look for the chocolate ones (really), and toss the rest back. Serial killers might, though.
Sunday, Oct. 5, Banff. D-Day.
Yesterday I ran into a Starbucks to get Bev coffee and to pick up a couple of brownies. We went back to our campground to load up the camper and move north to somewhere with great kayaking. Bev handed me the Starbucks bag because it also had the maps shoved into it.
We started to pull out of the campsite as I pulled out the maps. A big, fat, gigantic gray mouse with chocolate smeared on its face smiled out at me. I screamed, threw open the door to the car, and threw the bag out. After ensuring that the mouse was not on me, I handed the bag to Bev WHO PROCEEDED TO TAKE OUT A BROWNIE AND EAT IT.
I could only form one word: “MOUSE!” She immediately spit out the brownie, kind of gagged a bit, and then used my contraband Woodford Reserve to wash mouse germs out of her mouth. Please note my generous sacrifice. I could have given her Jack but no, I offered up the Woodford. I’m just like that.
We kayaked Emerald Lake (you’ll love the photos when I can figure out how to upload them for free) and found the best campsite yet – wooded, big, and on a roaring river. We made the best ever s’mores with Nutella instead of Hershey’s, and enjoyed a clear sky with millions of stars.
Until I heard the scratching coming from inside of the car.
You would have thought a serial killer was dragging a chainsaw through the woods.
Me: “Do you hear that?”
Me: “Seriously. That little shit is still in the car.”
And that, my friends, is how we came to have a mouse named Mighty living in my SUV. He has eaten all of the chocolate snacks and chewed through a trash bag. I have to eliminate him before I get on the road – running off the road because of a mouse would be an embarrassing way to die.