Winter Cove Road

Nobody thinks of the emotional cost to another person. That what you’ve done besides how it makes you feel makes that person feel too. But it’s probably not what you’re feeling. And you never think of that unless you start practicing. It’s part of becoming more mature. Some people never get there. Like me. Not like me.

Like you then. You driving this car. If you don’t stop at this stop sign, like if you somehow forget to stop the person beside you is bound to notice and in the spirit of self-preservation is likely to say something. And they won’t like the feeling it gives them the same way they didn’t like you not stopping. You need to stop at the stop sign.

It’s like when you’re heading for Winter Cove and a car comes up behind you on the affectionately named “Missing Link” and you must be going too slow because it pulls out and passes you on the way to the top and here it comes—your feeling of mildly immoderate irritation.

It’s 10:30 in the evening and rather dark out and you just got in.  Why did that car do that? Speeding past on the left heading up the hill. Passing on a hill.  Fool. An older North American sedan. Cool.

Real tough ones. Rebels. Could-care-less-ers. Schucks, were we impressed. The car was in a hurry to get back to its burrow and we understand that but it’s not good enough to understand. You have to take action. I gave that driver a darn good spanking and that was that! Instructional video!

It’s Winter Cover Road. There’s a reason it’s called that. If you’re coming from town it’s a left at the stop sign. I don’t know why anybody calls it “town” because there isn’t one. This place is way too sophisticated for that and it’s something to appreciate but you still sometimes end up calling it “town”. Whatever it actually is. The store, I guess. I don’t know. That area there.

Exciting things is what Winter Cover Road leads to, not that in itself it isn’t interesting because it is. It’s a fascinating stretch. It’s not bad even at rush hour. It’s taking you places you’ve never been. What I mean is that’s the experience the first time. Where are you taking me? Woo-woo.

Just keep driving. Check it out. On and on. Playing fields. Parking lots. Winter Cove itself. Here she is. Cove schmove. Drive on. Ah, the yacht club. Excellent. I’ve misplaced my yacht and it just may be here because you never know what you’re going to find.

But there’s no time right now. Fields of wheat. Or grass or whatever it is. Straw. Hay. That lovely local couple, those high trees out there in the middle of the field. They must be getting on but with no place to go they’ll be staying on and you could do worse out there.

We take the dirt road that peters out up at the swamp, dodging the vehicle chock full of evangels on island to spread the word. The swamp up here is interesting with all the gnawed off trees mad beavers brought down.

Then I remember all the beavers had to be bussed out because of the protests and then Waxwing Road was put in guarded by the mad dog. You can drive in off the Missing Link. It’s only missing to those who can’t find it. Or can’t drive it.

Ingenuity, guts and open minds is what it takes to make it through and in the inconquerable spirit of exploration, well pleased, we got back to the car and went for dinner. We had to make it ourselves so it was time to get back.

The Saturna Mouse will return in the New Year.