The word spread throughout the resort about what had happened. Some staff members thought it was hilarious, the older and saner ones, thought that I should just leave and go home. Mr. East saved me from certain death that same evening. He sent me on a trip in the ‘Queen Mary’ to Killarney. Killarney Mountain Lodge was the other resort that Mr. East owned and it was at the north east tip of Georgian Bay. My job that night was to pick up a chef at the train station in Gravenhurst and drive him up to Killarney. I left the resort after dinner drove to the station and waited the arrival of the chef. The train was late and by the time it pulled into the station the sun was starting to set. Great. Now I got to drive in the dark to a place I had never been to before. I helped the chef with his bags and started the trek north. The chef was a little Chinese fellow who spoke little English and smoked continuously. I made my way onto Highway #11 then to #69 North. I knew then that all I had to do was stay on that highway until I hit Highway # 63something about 3 and one half hours ahead. “You can’t miss it.” Henry said. Oh yah, watch me.
On we went in silence. I had nothing in common with the chef, what with him being a foreigner and I being half his age but I tried. “Where ya from?” Nothing. (I now think of the movie Fargo and the character played by Steve Buscemi .) Northward we went. I kept thinking that the roadway would be just around the next bend in the road but it wasn’t. I was headed to the freakin’ north end of Georgian Bay for crying out loud. I stopped a gas station and was told that the turn was about 20 minutes further but to keep a lookout because the signage was poor.
I crawled along the highway – I don’t remember being aware of any other cars or trucks on the road – my eyes searching for a sign post. At long last I saw the turn and headed west to Killarney feeling a lot better about things. If #69 was bad, #63whatever was worse. The so-called highway was as narrow as a country lane, a gravel road and not asphalt and with bends and turns like you wouldn’t believe. The other unique feature was a series of Bailey Bridges – one lane wooden structures similar to the Bridge over the River Kwai. I was now in the real wild. No gas stations no lights, just me, the chef and the ‘Queen’. We were on that road for an hour and a half. All told, by the time we pulled into the resort, we had been in the car for over 5 hours and I had said 10 words and the chef had smoked 1000 cigarettes. Where was the plane when I needed it?
