USA Road Trip Part 3: The Election

Turning 40 with a Liberal win, my period, and rain

After we landed in Montana at our sweet little cabin, we swung in the hammock for a brief few minutes, and listened to the wild turkeys gobble away in the neighbouring field. We decided to get settled in and set up shop at the fire pit. Is there anywhere else to sit, ever? Than around a fire? That's where we find home, anywhere we go. It's always around a fire.

I was feeling uneasy about the election. What most people didn’t know was that I had grieved Canada's loss months prior, once I saw the angle they were using to regain momentum as a Liberal party. I had even called it, nearly to a T in a previous Substack entry inDecember, before Trudeau had even “resigned”. I knew Carney was coming before Liberal supporters even knew who he was. And I knew that all the Liberal party needed to do was to dull the blade of the Conservative strategy, which was largely based on the economy and axing the tax. It was something Pierre had an upper hand on with Trudeau, but it left them wide open for a rug pull the moment Trudeau was gone. It was premonition-like, to sense this was going to happen. I also knew how easy it was to manipulate the Canadian voter base, as it was obvious that as a collective nation, we hadn’t learned much over the past 5 years. Side note, if anyone’s looking for a political psychic with an increasingly dark sense of humour—I’m available for parties.

In all seriousness, I think my grief was moreso present that evening because I was feeling the weight of what this was going to mean for countless people and families across the country. Families who hadn’t accepted the fate of Canada just yet, and were hanging onto hope that a Conservative win would mean change — even though Trudeau had stacked the Senate with Liberal senators before he left. Which meant that even in the event of a Conservative win, it would've been unlikely that any bills passed in the House, would've made it through the Senate to achieve Royal Assent. There had been a total takeover of our parliamentary system, regardless of any electoral outcome.

It really was all genius on their part, and for that I give them credit. It's just a shame that Liberal voters failed to recognize a party strategy that knew how to play on their ignorance, and more importantly their fears of the Bad Orange Man. I had really backed off my political dialogue online as a result, wrestling with the inner turmoil of feeling like I had given up, vs making a conscious decision to start focusing more on the quality of my own life, which had also started to show signs of decline. Another part of me just didn't know how to break the news to my social media followers, that we were likely going to see another Liberal win. I didn't know how to share that prediction, knowing the sheer exhaustion millions of us had been feeling for literal years. So I shifted my dialogue more into the "and if they do win again, here's how we live our lives anyway” as a means to keep people (myself included) focused on what’s always within our control - which is the power of choice. I'm sure some picked up on my retreat, but I was immensely grateful for new voices who had risen in the Canadian political scene that lessened the guilt I was carrying for not doing more.

My $14/day US data plan was worth it. I didn't want to skip a beat on socials because of cell phone coverage simply by crossing an invisible man-made line that separated nations. We got the fire going, and we bounced between coverage on CPAC, Candace Malcolm's show and unfortunately, Global — they tend to have the best interactive map during an election. So I broke my rule of no legacy media, for the sake of taking in the election from all angles.

The rain in the forecast was holding off for us, which we were grateful for. Plus, we were in Montana, our cheap beer was cold, and the fire was crackling — I couldn’t think of a better situation to take in a nerve-racking election. There was a glimmer of hope as eastern Canada polls started to close, and a few seats flipped to blue. Rob would get up every now and then and grab his binoculars to peer at deer or wild turkeys roaming through the adjacent field. He’s the guy that can never find the ketchup in the fridge, but can see an animal in the wild with his eyes closed. He’s primal that way.

But by the time Quebec and Ontario started to roll in, my gut was being confirmed. So when CTV called the election a Liberal win, barely after the polls closed in western Canada, there wasn't an ounce of me that was surprised. This time though, 4 years after Trudeau's last gut-wrenching win, my stomach didn't sink. Was I just numb to it all? Was I simply prepared for the result? Did I not care anymore? Was I far too conscious about not letting this government steal a moment more from me? Did I just feel better because I wasn’t even in Canada? Or had I just successfully detached from the perception of government authority? It was likely a bit of all of the above.

We fired up the barbecue and threw our overpriced ribeyes on the grill. There was a pensiveness coming from us so thick that you could’ve cut it with our shitty plastic camping knife. We aren't immune to the human experience after all, for we knew what this meant, far more than we did in 2021. Yet still, there was a sense of peace that sat with us at the picnic table as the internet proceeded to erupt with both anti-Trump cheer, and anti-Liberal elite disdain. We were now shifting into, "what's our next move?" Both Rob and I are problem solvers, and our assemblance of peace was likely derived by knowing that we’d simply figure it out - whatever that meant. We were in America, after all, and no one in America seemed to even know we had an election (how embarrassing, when we pay so much attention to theirs), which thankfully made for a much more chill energy. There we sat chewing on steak as night fell, as two Albertans in the middle of Montana, while millions of Canadians back home faced devastating conversations with their families, and decisions on where they were going to raise their children. Both of our phones were blowing up, and we did our best to keep our focus on each other.

Prior to that evening, I had spent the last 4 years, solidly, raising awareness around politics, providing education, activating Canadians to get involved, and working like hell to wake people up - not to Liberalism, but to NGO agendas that saw the Liberal parties as means to infiltrate nations and gain greater influence and control over the people. Speaking against a publicly supported narrative isn’t for the faint of heart. You come across as crazy and misinformed, which I completely understand as that’s how I saw people like me, before my eyes opened, too. On top of the distance people put between themselves and you, you also face a plethora of name-calling and labels. Racist. Bigoted. Grandma killer. Intolerant. Domestic terrorist. Selfish. Homophobic. Transphobic. Nazi. And more recently, traitor — or to be exact, traitor bitch. Basically, people like me became a human illustration of every phobia invented since 2020 in the eyes of those with their eyes closed. All designed to keep people from listening to us, and to diminish our credibility.

The hardest part to communicate was actually the reality that this wasn’t even about left vs right, or Conservatives vs Liberal. This was about seeing the chilling danger of what's happening so insidiously, far above the heads of the political puppets placed in front of us, vs the strategically curated political speeches and the heavily pointed mainstream media talking points keeping the masses programmed and easy to control. Bad orange man + elbows up = easy win. Carney math. They really did know that their base would gobble it up, and the level of disrespect that showed to proud leftist supporters is shameful. History, if truth ever prevails, will reflect on this era as a true battle of good vs evil, and people will study for decades with total mystification, how so many seemingly good and intelligent people were susceptible to falling for it all.

We went to bed that night, with both of us cuddled up on the bottom bunk in our little cabin. We knew the bed was going to be a short-lived luxury as in just 2 nights, it would be time for us to stuff ourselves into our tiny tent on top of the Bronco. At 1004pm MT, I said "Babe, it's my birthday in Ontario. I'm officially 40!" Turning 40 in Montana was awesome. Turning 40 during an election electrocution, not so much. But it only further highlighted the constant paradoxical state my life had been in for years. Both incredible, and devastating, simultaneously in every moment, of every day. I titled my chapter The Great Paradox in my 2022 anthology publication The Sovereign, for this very reason. So much beauty, and so much chaos.

I shut down my Instagram that night, leaving 6000 people watching my coverage of the election, and more DMs pouring in than I'd ever received in my Instagram existence. People were rocked. But I was 40, dammit —and determined to enjoy this trip as much as I could.

I woke up the next morning to pouring rain, a Liberal government and a hint of my period making its debut. It felt like a personal attack. Like I was being emotionally tag-teamed by mother nature, the government and my uterus. This is 40. What a vibe. Rob took off to find us coffee, after we had stared at the jar of coffee grounds in the cabin the night before, and decided not to roll the dice on something so important. I was however, so grateful we weren't packing up a campsite because nothing is worse than packing up a campsite in the rain. We enjoyed our coffees on our covered porch and watched the rain fall, and then we scurried down the trail to the shower cabin where we got cleaned up and ready for our drive. We were Idaho bound, and Rob had surprised me with a night in a Chuckwagon for my birthday. Our time in Montana was only to simply land for our first night on the way down, as we’d be travelling back through on the way back up at the end of our trip.

The rain continued to pour as we hit the road, which was a dang shame because we were driving around the most stunning views of Flathead Lake, but they were blurred by the mist and the rain-soaked windows of the Bronco.

We could feel a good energy there, though — and we banked a mental note that this would be an awesome place to return for a summer getaway. We were both born and raised in Ontario, and the one thing we missed are the lakes. There’s nothing quite like the vibe of cottage country, but Flathead was giving it — and it was just a 6hr drive from home. Yep, we’d be back.

In stark contrast to the peaceful America landscapes, my Canadian DMs continued to roar. There was grief. Agony. Fear. Defeat. But mostly people sending me gratitude for helping to keep them sane over the last few years, and expressing their appreciation for my light-hearted coverage of the election the night prior. That was appreciated.

No one knew it was my birthday and so I thought, what better way to break the political mayhem than by announcing that it was my 40th, and that I'm on a dream road trip with my husband and that I was hellbent on enjoying myself. The vibe instantly shifted to love and celebration and I was so grateful for everyone who sent me good vibes and took time out of their day (and likely stressful states) to wish me a happy birthday. Instagram fam, you really are the best. It helped. That was when we consciously shed the election vibes and committed to focusing on the open road ahead of us.

Sarah

Next up, an accidental discovery of The Dutton Ranch, a night in a chuckwagon, and an introduction to Mike and John — two of Idaho’s hidden human gems.

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