Going away to the cottage is always relaxing. Spending the days on a dock by the lake, book in hand and a cooler full of beverages nearby make for a serene experience. No smog, no big city noise, no hustle and bustle all contribute to the feeling that yes, peace and quiet can be achieved. Getting to the cottage however, isn’t nearly as peaceful as the rest of the trip. Bad Directions

The last few years S and I have rented cottages from the same people. They have a few cottages spread out throughout Northern Ontario. After our first experience, I wasn’t sure we would rent from them again. But then last year, we booked a different cottage as part of a girls’ week away since we took a group vacation with K and P.

The very first cottage that S and I rented could only be reached by following obscure directions which were provided to us by the owners. The back roads up North aren’t like city streets, there are few signs indicating what road you are on at any given time. After pulling off of the highway, we were dependent on the directions provided to us by the cottage owners. Things like, “follow road until you come across a slight fork, then turn left” left us confused and often questioning whether we were going the right way.

These directions might make sense to people who live in the area and are used to the roads, but for two city gals like S and I, it lead to some tense moments. Especially that first year we went up North. We arrived up North around the same time a storm was approaching the area. We’d been driving for over three hours, we were hungry, frustrated at the directions (or lack thereof) and then we had to deal with the darkening skies. As could be expected, S was in rage mode at how things were turning out.

Last year proved to be more of the same. The directions were a bit better since they didn’t involve as many twists and turns as the previous cottage. What it did involve though, was that massive hill that we had to drive up. The directions on the information package mentioned a ‘big’ hill. Big was a gross misstatement. The road already was narrow with ditches running along both sides. There we were with our truck loaded up with boxes full of groceries and bedding and faced with a hill we didn’t think we’d be able to make it over. As we took on the hill, S was certain that we wouldn’t make it to the top of it. I kept envisioning us falling into one of the ditches.

The directions had said that after the hill, the cottage would be on the right hand side. We drove along with nothing but trees and shrubs on both sides. Where the hell was the cottage? Then, we got to the end of the road and S’s short fuse gave out. We were faced with a closed gate with a “Private Property” sign and a road that would require a twenty point turn to access it. To compound all of that, P’s dog Bud was with us and he began whining when the car stopped. “Shut up, Bud!” I shouted.

He then jumped in the front and S and I both yelled at him to “get the fuck in the back!” S was livid by then. “Where the fuck are we?” she wanted to know. After getting out of the car, I found that the cottage was down the side road which would require S to navigate the twenty point turn. Again, I thought we’d end up in a ditch since the space was so tight. Thankfully, we managed to pull the truck into the right driveway and got settled into the cottage.

One would think that these previous experiences would have taught us to be prepared for a difficult arrival. Perhaps S and I blocked out the previous arrival traumas as we made our way up north on Sunday. The directions didn’t seem too complicated and the property was in the same general area as our two prior visits so we figured we’d manage okay. We were wrong.

The directions called for us to turn right from the major road we were on to a much smaller road. We continued to drive north without ever seeing the road we were supposed to have turned onto. We stopped in a small town to pick up some things we had forgotten to pack and then got back on our way. We had our GPS with us but I was confused by what it was telling us. It was suggesting we continue going north and then turning onto a road. But the directions provided to us by the property owners said we should’ve turned onto a road south of where we were.

S and I thought maybe the GPS was off, like maybe we had entered in the wrong name of the township or it wasn’t sure where we were. S looked over the printed directions and asked me if I had seen the road we were supposed to turn onto. “No, I wasn’t looking for it since I knew we were coming to the town first.”

I could tell S was less than impressed as she put the car into drive and got us out of the grocery store parking lot.

Back on the main road, S noticed a sign that announced that the road we needed was out of service from May onward and to take another route marked with a detour “D2.” “Fuck!” S said. She drove along and pulled onto a road and continued driving along it. “I think this the route we were supposed to get on. Did that sign say D1 or D2?” she asked me.

“I don’t know, we went by it too quickly,” I replied quietly.

“Fuck!” S said again as she turned us around and went back onto the main highway. She continued south and indicated she’d go to the small town we had passed on the way north. Only problem was she missed the exit for it. “Fuck! Where does the next exit take us?” she asked, nostrils flaring.

I told her it was the next major town – about an hour away. “Well then, I guess we’re going there.”

Luckily, she found an earlier exit and got us traveling back north. We looked out for any signs that would indicate which route to take since the road we needed was closed. We passed a sign that confirmed that we needed D2. When we approached it, S turned onto it and we began our drive into the back country.

The road we were on eventually lead up to the one we were supposed to have gotten on to begin with, but we didn’t know how far along on it we were. Should we go left or right? I thought we should go right so S turned us in that direction. We continued to drive without encountering any road names indicated in the directions given to us by the cottage owners. I was getting anxious about getting lost but S was locked into a rage. She was going to keep driving, regardless of where we ended up. “Just pull over and I’ll call the guy,” I said.

“Oh no, I’m going to drive!” she said in that caustic, angry tone she gets when she’s in rage mode. “Besides, there’s nowhere to pull over anyway.”

Eventually, she turned up a road to use someone’s driveway to turn us around. Just then, there was another vehicle behind us. The guy must’ve thought we were going to keep going so S shouted, “Go around me, fucktard!”

“Jesus,” she sighed as he drove past us.

Back we went, the same way we had just come. We took the road to the very end where we saw it all closed up by construction fencing. There was a little cottage there and I suggested to S that I get out and asked the people there for directions. “I’m not stopping at some whack job’s house! There isn’t even a car in the lane,” she said as she drove us back towards where we had initially started our journey.

When we got back to the intersection where the road we were on and D2 met, S pulled over. I tried reaching the cottage owner but got voicemail at both of the numbers he had provided.

“Why is the drive always so shitty?!” S asked no one in particular. “Fuck it, I’m going to go where the GPS suggests and then I’m not going to drive anymore. My back is hurting and I need out of this car.”

I nodded an ‘ok’ and said a silent prayer that the GPS would get us where we needed to go.

It took a while of driving on the back roads, but the GPS did indeed get us to the road we needed to be on. The cottage owners told us that the property was at the very end of the road and the GPS didn’t seem to know that the road continued as far as it did.

We got to another fork where we wondered whether to go left or right. “God damn it!” S said as she slammed her hand against the steering wheel. “Which way now?”

“Go left,” I suggested.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a driveway and there’s some random person staring at us from a window in that house over there,” she replied indicating the house that was to our right. A head of us was yet another hill, though not nearly as bad as last year’s.

S decided to take on the hill and shortly after, we found the property we wanted.

By this point, you’d think our driving troubles would be over. Well, you’d be wrong.

The building we first encountered on the property was the garage or games room. The actual buildings we’d be staying in were further down the property – on a very narrow path. As I did last year, I got out of the truck and walked down the property to check out the buildings and the driveway. As she did last year, S got out of the truck and lit a cigarette.

S wanted to pull as close to the cottage as possible, to make the unloading of our boxes easier for us. I thought she’d be able to navigate around the trees and shrubs on the property. With her in the car, I guided her towards the cottage. She wanted to turn left through the shrubs but didn’t think she could make it. I thought she could but she didn’t want to risk it. So she went right and drove right up to the cottage. It was a tight fit though, and she began to wonder how the hell she’d get out of there.

I tried to guide her around and up the path between the trees but she didn’t feel like she was getting enough traction so she stopped the truck and called it a day. “I don’t know how the fuck we’re going to get out of here,” she said as we brought the boxes into the cottage.

“Could you back out if I guided you?” I asked.

“Fuck no! I can’t back up,” she replied. (Backing up is not a strong suit of S’s.)

“Well, don’t let that ruin your week. We’ll get out eventually, even if it means you ploughing through the trees on the property,” I replied.

As it turns out, we didn’t have to wait until our departure to get the car out. On Monday morning, we realized we were missing some things and would need to go into town. With my guidance and a call to Jesus for help, we got out okay with both the truck and trees unscathed.

Upon our return, I helped S back the truck onto the property. We left it further up the driveway to avoid any more navigation issues.

Past experience has been a smooth drive home and this year proved to be more of the same.

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