I took a driving trip with a friend at the start of March 2016. We met in Toronto, drove to Winnipeg through Northern Ontario, and hung out for a few days. After that I caught a plane home.
We took the long way there: up Sudbury to Sault. Ste. Marie, across long, blank roads before Thunder Bay, then Kenora, then Winnipeg. Lake Superior was to our left- a place to see if you haven’t yet had much to see: a massive, foreboding thing.
Of course, the point was to take pictures; people say ‘make photos’, too. I’m on the fence about that one. In either case, that’s what I did.
I’m not sure why I made the trip. On my calendar it said ‘vacation’, but it wasn’t one of those. There was no profound reason for going; no grand statement about isolation, or being places I’d never been, or discovering the mystique of Canadian winter. None of that. I drove. I took photos. I drank beers at night. I talked with my pal about the things happening in our lives.
Then I got sick in Winnipeg, which is why most of these shots are of the highway. What the hell.