Canadian flights are expensive and Newfoundland flights even more so. Isy and I were going to beat the system though. We sprang for the Newfoundland to Montreal flight, where Montreal connected us to the Greyhound network and a bus down to Albany would allow us to take advantage of cheaper American flights.

Easy peasy!

Grabbing a cab from Pearson Airport, we found ourselves at the Gare d'autocars Montreal in no time. Boarding the bus and only making one quick stop prior to Upstate New York, the border went off without a hitch even if I wasn't fully prepared.

Border Guard: "And what is your relationship with her?"

"We're dating."

Border Guard: "And how long have you been dating?"

"I don't know, four or five years?"

(Border Guard squints at me.)

The border guard chuckled and let me know that after that long, it probably isn't considered "dating" anymore.

The other worry at the border was when they told us a drug-sniffing dog would come inspect the bus, where I suddenly thought back to buying firewood off this guy on Marketplace and how he insisted that I take a baggie of weed as he gives that to all of his wood customers. I hadn't thought of that baggie since that day, but was it under the bus in my Urban Stars?

Stressed out, the dog thankfully didn't stop at any of our bags and I found that stupid baggie back in my basement a couple of months later.

Anyway, stopping for a 15 minute break in Plattsburgh, I went for a stroll and found this abandoned house beside the Mobil. That narc dog may not have found what he was looking for, but I sure did!

Getting back on the road, our militant bus driver let everyone know the rules and that she wouldn't put up with loud phone calls or people being late coming back from breaks.

People followed the rules and we had a casual and relaxed Greyhound ride right down to Albany.

The Greyhound has a stop at Albany's airport, but I wanted to head downtown since we had the time.

I appreciated that arriving in downtown Albany was still an option, since Greyhound sold many of its prime bus station properties in the 2010s, until it eventually sold the remaining stations to a private equity firm in 2022. This Albany location remains a Greyhound Bus Station to this day even though it was sold by the private equity firm in 2024, but it probably won't last much longer as the purchaser has been trying to gather properties for a big redevelopment project in this area of Albany known as the Parking Lot District.

Nowadays you have places like Cincinnati where the Greyhound station is a trailer on the edge of town, so I appreciated Albany's fantastic bus location this day.

Even though it was April by this point, the weather was still trash back in Corner Brook, so we loved walking around in sweaters as cherry blossoms shined amongst the rowhouses.

The sun also highlighted the gorgeous sandstone of Albany's old county courthouse.

The "new" county courthouse.

This was Easter Sunday and my Mom sent money to enjoy a nice dinner, which we did at McGeary's Irish Pub in the form of chili cheese dogs, cheese burgers, chips and a couple pints.

I enjoyed sending the above picture as proof of our "nice Easter meal".

McGeary's was a great pub and I loved walking around Albany, but a question arose whether it was all worth it as we called eight separate cab companies and couldn't reach anyone to bring us out to the airport on Easter Sunday. I'd heard of Lyft & Uber being so popular that cab companies were gone from certain cities, but this was the capital of New York State and I was shocked that you couldn't get a taxi here anymore.

Things were starting to get dire. Ahead of a 630pm flight, we were walking back to the bus station as we moved into the 5 o'clock hour. I remembered a cab or two hanging around at the bus station, but they were also all racing away as the bus arrived and people grabbed the rare one.

Thankfully as we approached, a cab was getting ready to pull out and he appreciated our situation. He raced us out to the airport and full of stress, we grabbed our bags and ran into the terminal as I feared that we were going to miss our flight.

I had our odds of clearing security and making it to the gate on time at about 25% until we noticed that our flight was delayed 36 minutes. The perfect amount of extra time in a smallish, regional airport like Albany.

The shenanigans wouldn't stop there as we dashed through thunderstorms into Atlanta and then quickly onward to the airport in Panama City Beach Florida. I knew the catch with this airport was that if you arrive late at night and you aren't staying at one of the nearby expensive hotels with an airport shuttle, that you need to book your pickup via shoddy, outdated websites or facebook pages with about six updates a year. I called one of these services and they said their drivers were already booked up but that "there's always other drivers hanging around looking to pick up people."

That may be the case if you're one of the quicker ones off the plane, but they lost my bike and therefore I had to go over to the counter to file a claim and receive the news that there's a regular Atlanta flight here and my bike would be ready for pickup tomorrow morning or afternoon. We were approaching 24 hours of travel at this point as it was almost midnight EST, so there wasn't time to worry about my bike and I left it to hope that it'd be on tomorrow's morning flight.

Of course, with that extra hiccup and not having anything scheduled, we went outside to find the few drivers still hanging around, all picking up people we recognized from the lost luggage line. Before we knew it, it felt like it was just us and about three staff members left at Northwest Florida Beaches International Airport.

Still, Isy had her skateboard and I enjoyed trying shuv its in the perfect air of the Florida night. We reached a driver and he had someone to drop off but he'd head right back - but when that's 20 minutes into Panama City Beach, 5 minutes of faffing about with luggage, then 20 minutes back out here, we had plenty of time to watch the lightning show off in the horizon and dream about our sweet, sweet motel bed at the Sleep Inn & Suites.

Even though it may not sound too enjoyable after 24 hours of straight travelling, the weather was so amazing and it was such a feeling of relief post-Corner Brook Winter, that I look back on this time fondly.

I was up too early because I needed to crush a few kilometers down to the Budget Rental Car to pick up our (hopefully) trusty steed for the next 11 days.

Returning to the hotel and getting everything packed back up, we headed east even though this was a road trip from here westward to Tulsa. That's because it was time to get my first Florida lighthouse and you can't visit the lighthouse in nearby Pensacola unless you're an American or have an American escort because of a mass shooting leading to greater security protocols.

Deciding against financing one of my American friends flying in to escort me to the Pensacola Lighthouse, we instead headed east, down the Florida Panhandle. Along the way, Isy asked if we were going to stop at any of the fine beaches we kept passing, which wasn't a thought that occurred to me at all as why would one want to stop at a beach unless there's a lighthouse.

Stopping for a half hour or so, I suppose it was nice as we saw some Laughing Gulls and Willets at Mexico Beach. I also always like stopping for something Isy wants to see.

Our first planned stop was the only Florida lighthouse we'd visit: the Cape San Blas Lighthouse.

The fourth lighthouse located at Cape San Blas due to others being lost to storms and erosion, this lighthouse we stood before today was also threatened until it was eventually moved 12.3 miles (19.8km) to a city park in Port St. Joe.

Afterwards, we continued another 10 minutes down the road to a lighthouse on private property, but sizing up the scene and knowing I was in Florida, I thought better of playing dumb and wandering into the yard.

Unfortunately the next lighthouse along this coast was another 45 minutes entirely in the wrong direction of where we were staying tonight, so Florida will have to remain a place for a big lighthouse trip sometime in the future.

Two and a half hours from Port St. Joe and headed sort of in the right direction again, we reached the Florida-Alabama state line and the highpoint of The Mountainous State, er, I mean, The Sunshine State - Britton Hill! A peak towering skywards to a breathtaking 345 feet (105 meters).

(Detroit's Broderick Tower stands at 369 feet (112m)).

The highest man in all of Florida!

There was a sign for a trail right behind the marker and Isy said we had to do it. I was concerned about snakes and spiders and I liked my little cleared summit area, but thankfully we didn't encounter anything too crazy in the woods.

Using the washroom at the summit, I laughed at the need for a Britton Hill sign beside the toilet.

The drive to Britton Hill and immediately leaving Britton Hill involved some of those Florida highways with desolate stores and sunbaked exposed parking lots - although we did end up on some backroads that cut through rolling hills with the odd abandoned (or rundown) home sprinkled in here and there.

I liked the landscape enough to get out and snap a picture, even as Isy was alarmed because she thought I was stopping the car to hop the barbed wire fence and explore the trailer that didn't even look all that abandoned, haha.

From Britton Hill - and because Pensacola didn't have any hockey or baseball going on tonight - we exited Florida into Alabama.

Along the way we stopped at the glorified Wal-Mart/gas station Buc-ee's, where something hilarious almost happened as Isy brought over a yellow water bottle with a coiled snake on it, stating that she liked it and asking if I thought she should buy it.

I suddenly realized she didn't know about the Gadsden Flag. My mind instantly raced as I laughed internally at the thought of her showing up to work with a new mug declaring that her coworkers better not Tread On Her, but at the same time my brain was running like Photoshop on a computer from 2004, just buzzing and vibrating as I tried to sort out whether she'd be really mad if I let this happen.

In the end I explained the flag and she put it back. She then told me it would have been hilarious if I let her unknowingly buy the bottle, bah!

Anyway, tonight's dinner was in Mobile Alabama at Moe's Original BBQ.

Decent BBQ and a cold one after a long day of driving and hiking really hit the spot. I also sort of like Mobile and Isy had never been to Alabama, so this worked out perfectly.

It seems like nowadays the only accommodation options in B-Grade or C-Grade American cities are $350/night Hiltons or questionable AirBNBs or decent budget motel options out in the big box sprawl. So often these days, I can't find the "old hotel that's a little rundown but the rate is good" or the "hotel which has a questionable reputation so they're discounting rooms" or the "old motel that's been there forever."

Mobile was one of these places. I wanted to stay downtown, but there was no way I was paying $300USD for a room at the Sheraton. Instead I decided that this was one night on the trip to spend a bit of money on the accommodations since we were going to be paying out the nose to stay downtown anyway - so we ended up with a clawfoot tub and excellent service down at the Fort Conde Inn.

It wasn't just the interior though, as this four street neighbourhood is a survivor of urban renewal, an enclave of old buildings and brick streets that were saved after the interstate was put through and destroyed all of the other surrounding old buildings.

And hell, if you don't like gas lamps and ornate fences, the front porch has a fine view of Mobile's grotesque county courthouse!

We had 3.5 hours driving to cover the next morning, but I still made time for the county courthouse (and Taco Bell) in Gulfport.

Getting back in the car, Isy was shocked to learn that I liked the Harrison County Courthouse and that it made me happy. She declared the building "ugly and pointless" and I died laughing. Pointless is such a great way to insult a building.

Anyway, more to come.