My 24-Hour Vacation: Part Two

6 AM, July 6th. I've been up all night and there's no point sleeping now. The sun is up and it's already warm. There is hardly a soul astir in Orillia, and even Highway 11 is practically dead. So I decide to take off for Honey Harbour, where I have a date with a white pine tree, cross-country.

Being from Parry Sound, I have a pretty good idea of the geography. I know that Highway 12 goes right from Orillia to Waubashene, where I can turn north onto 400 (formerly 69.) I know I'm north of 12 at the moment, but I figure if I just head west, chances are I'll hit 400 anyway. There's virtually nothing in between. On the off chance that doesn't work, any county road that heads south will take me to 12. This is how my mind works. I even checked the gas guage. Foolproof.

If you're expecting a disaster, there isn't one. True, the roads that run parallel to 12 don't go straight through to 400 from Orillia. In fact, they only run parallel for maybe 15 miles. Then they go at right angles. Then they turn to gravel. Then they turn to cow tracks, through some of the most gorgeous, untouched, old-fashioned farm country I've seen in quite a while. I guess not having through roads is one way of preserving the landscape. In any case, I had one of the nicest Sunday drives I've ever had, notwithstanding the fact that I drove in circles and zig-zags for about an hour, enjoying the stillness of a morning alone, before hitting Highway 12 and heading west.

And then I got a hankering for Tim Horton's.The problem is, once you get north of Barrie, the formerly ubiquitous Timmie's is a rare find. There isn't one in Honey Harbour, or Port Severn, or Waubashene, or poor, forgotten Fesserton, once a bustling gas-station town on the main route between Barrie and Sudbury; now an eyeblink along old Highway 12. So to get a cup of coffee on a sunny Sunday morning, a guy has to head PAST highway 400, west to Midland. Or in my case, to Penetanguishene, having managed to miss the Midland turn.

But what a treat: it's at least a 15 mile drive off the highway to Penetanguishine, and I was in no hurry. The landscape was getting rugged as I approached Georgian Bay, and I could feel my blood stirring for a sight of the water. The Bay is home to me.So it already seemed like the day couldn't get any better, and what should come on the CBC radio but good old Jeff Goodes' program Fresh Air!

I felt a real kinship- Jeff had been the MC the night before at Mariposa, so he must have been up all night too, as the program airs at 7 am and he was already fresh. Only 12 hours before, we'd been chewing the fat backstage, trading memories from the Gordon Lightfoot Tribute concert last winter, and now here he was with his coffee already metabolized, talking about how great Mariposa was the night before. But that's not all!The best part was, Jeff had hauled out tapes from a Mariposa festival about 30 years ago, on Toronto Island.

This was an incredible, historic event- it would seem like an urban myth if I hadn't heard it with my own ears. But it's true: a couple of young up & comers named Bruce Cockburn and Murray MacLauchlanwere the talk of the town that weekend. They were joined by a few old friends of the festival who "dropped by:" Gordon Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young and Bob Dylan! Sounds like not a bad lineup to me. I didn't get backstage for that one, but sipping on a medium regular, munching a chocolate croissant, staring out at Discovery Harbour from the Penetanguishene wharf, I came as close as I could to travelling back in time. Thanks Jeff.

Okay, so I've already had a huge day, and it's only about 7.30 am. Caffinated enough to keep the car on the road, I decided to make a beeline for Jay Ingram's cottage. Did I mention I had a date with a white pine tree? The tree is on Jay's property, in an undisclosed location not far from Georgian Bay. Only Jay was awake when I pulled in at 8 AM. He was grinning down at me from his deck, looking like Obi-Wan Kenobi in his white hooded t-shirt. He took me tip-toeing around the side of the cottage to see a turkey vulture, warming its wings in a nearby tree. He fed me more coffee, woke up his son Max, and we proceeded down the driveway with armloads of tools to build A Treehouse.

Carpentry in the forest. What could be better?I spent a few hours getting covered in pine gum, banging two-by-sixes together as the day lengthened. What a treat to join in with a boy & his dad building stuff. Had a great lunch with the family, and then turned with a sinking heart back toward the city. I nearly fell asleep behind the wheel on a gridlocked highway 400, but I got home alright. By 4 PM I was treating myself to a long, deep sleep, dreaming in the shadows of my 24-hour vacation.