Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.

July 31, 2025

I’ve always been curious about the buzz around blogs. After reading countless posts on everything from travel to cooking, I’ve discovered my true passion lies in long-distance road trips. In North America, “long distance” usually means driving hundreds of miles or kilometers, and along the way you collect unforgettable adventures. Two drives, in particular, stand out for me: one when I was nine, and another—the 6,500-kilometer journey from Halifax, Nova Scotia to Vancouver, British Columbia.

My earliest memory of a lengthy drive dates back to age nine, while living in Uganda. My dad steered a black Morris Minor wagon trimmed with wood panels as we covered roughly 1,100 kilometers from Soroti to the Indian Ocean port of Mombasa.  

 Most roads in Kenya and Uganda weren’t paved then, and I vividly recall the night we paused for a herd of elephants crossing at dusk. Dad switched off the engine and urged us to stay silent until the elephants had settled and moved on. 

“I am not the same, having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.”
— Mary Anne Radmacher

In 1975, my parents and I embarked on our first Trans-Canada drive, traveling from Halifax to Toronto and back through four provinces. I was amazed to meet Nova Scotians who had never ventured beyond their home province—like the 70-year-old gentleman in Kentville who’d never even driven to Halifax, just an hour away.

When my own children were little, we lived in Dartmouth, NS. My parents had moved to Toronto in 1978, and my in-laws were in Vancouver. Flying several times a year wasn’t feasible, so we made the Halifax–Toronto drive most long weekends, except at Christmastime, when winter weather kept the roads icy and impassable.

My first solo attempt at the Halifax–Vancouver run came in 1979, before GPS guided the way—you relied solely on paper maps. Somewhere on Highway 20 outside Montreal we missed our exit and ended up in downtown traffic during rush hour. It was terrifying but exhilarating: a lesson in navigating the unknown. Eventually we made it to Toronto, and finally to Vancouver.

Over time, the Halifax–Toronto route turned into a familiar holiday ritual. We could name every roadside restaurant, gas station, and scenic lookout before we reached it—but our unexpected Montreal detour always remained our favorite story.

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” – Saint Augustine

Today, after moves from Halifax to Toronto, Calgary, Edmonton and now settled back in Belleville, Ontario. Looking ahead, I dream of new drives: west through the vast Canadian prairies and the Rockies to Vancouver, east across Quebec and the Maritimes to the Atlantic Ocean or even north to the Arctic Ocean. Whichever path I take, I’m ready for the next chapter.

“The goal is to die with memories not dreams”