I was staying at a youth hostel in Regina, Saskatchewan when I met her for the first time. It was October and apparently the off-season for tourists in Saskatchewan as she and I were the only guests that day. She said her name was “Hanna” but it was spelled Chana.

She arrived late evening, as I was making my dinner in the basement kitchen. She was was dressed kind of ‘hippie’ and was pretty, which was accentuated by a positive energy about her. I guessed her age at about 28.

She also had a guitar with her. This fact might not seem like a big deal, but I’m always mysteriously more attracted to women who have some musical talent.

I was, at the time, trying to hitchhike my way back to Halifax after having my money stolen from me in Vancouver and working a week as a laborer in Calgary. I had experienced a lot in the month I was gone, but I was ready to head home.

I told her my story and without giving it a thought she offered me a ride to Toronto, a whole three days away. She had all of her things from her home in Boulder, Colorado in the back of her station wagon for her big move to Toronto. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s a long time to be in a car with someone you don’t know…” I said, being hesitant to put her in a situation where she felt obligated to drive me.

We eventually agreed that she would drive me to Winnipeg, drop me off somewhere for the night, and whether she wanted to pick me up again the next morning was up to her, no hard feelings.

That night we went out and explored the bustling city of Regina and found… nothing. No live music, no night life, just good conversation and a quiet beer together back in the kitchen at the hostel. Chana played a song she wrote on her guitar – the chords were simple, but the lyrics suggested she had experienced more than her youthful face showed.

The next morning, we started the long drive east across the prairies. Over the next ten hours, we talked about dreams, expectations, past loves, everything that was important in our little worlds. There was chemistry between us, and when we kept eye contact for a little too long, I suspected that she was wondering where this ride was heading as well.

We arrived in Winnipeg early evening and after a pit stop for some fresh fruit and snack food (I remember a scene in the supermarket where we both reached for a tin of chocolate chip cookie dough at the same time and laughing at ourselves), Chana decided to keep driving. “Let’s stay at a motel somewhere.”

“Sure, but remember our deal.” I replied. “I don’t ever want to be a burden as a hitchhiker. You let me off, and if you want, pick me up again in the morning…”

But she would have none of it. Older women — like to lead the situation, I guess.

We had been talking about adventures all day, and so when we didn’t come across any motels that looked worthwhile a few hours later, Chana suggested we camp out. “Like just pull over and camp somewhere?”

She said we could just pick a dirt road in one of the small towns we were passing through. I was mildly skeptical of the idea, remembering trying this type of “camping” with some friends near the Halifax International Airport a few years before and ending up getting my poor Corsica stuck in two feet of mud (there are pictures out there somewhere of me and a few friends, stripped down to our knickers and covered in mud, trying to push my car out… I’m sure they’ll surface somewhere on the internet in a few years and ruin any aspirations of me becoming a politician. Whew.)

But Chana was driving and so we turned off down a paved side road from the Trans-Canada, and then off that onto a dirt road. The dirt road quickly narrowed, to the point where we couldn’t turn the car around and if we wanted to go back, we’d have to back all the way out. “Let’s keep going and see if we can find a place to turn around…” She suggested. I kept an eye out for mud puddles, not being keen on getting stuck, miles away from anywhere.

“Hey! A clearing!” The small, rocky, dirt road suddenly widened into an old parking lot, grown over with tall grass. There was an old building, in across the lot, but the car headlights were weak and I couldn’t quite make it out. “It’s an old campground!” She yelled, excitedly. “This is perfect!” in that way that girls get excited about things while the guy is still feeling out the situation. She stopped the car and we got out. She was right, it was an old campground. Really old, judging by the sign, I thought. I walked up and examined the decrepit sign as Chana started looking for her tent in the trunk. I pulled the overgrown branches of an oak tree to reveal the full name: Crystal Lake Campground. Gears turning in my mind. Silent alarm bells go off.

“Hey, uh, Chana?”

“Yeah” She answered, pulling out a sleeping bag and throwing it on top of the car.

“Hey, strange question, but did you ever see that movie about the guy with the hockey mask and the chainsaw? You know, like from the 80s?”

“Uh, yeah? Friday the 13th?” She paused. “Why…?” She stopped searching trough the trunk and looked at me, confused.

“Hey, um, what was the campground called in that movie…?”

She looked at me, then at the sign where my hand was. Crystal Lake Campground. She grabbed the sleeping bag and threw it back in the trunk. “Fuck. That’s really creepy. We’re getting out of here.” She said.

“I mean, I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything, and I can’t remember if that’s exactly it or not…I guess, even if it’s the same name….” I started, but she walked quickly over to me, grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the driver’s seat. “You’re driving. Let’s go!”

We drove off quickly, not saying a word to each other as I turned the car around and drove back down the dirt road.

When we got back to the main highway, we had a nervous laugh about it, and headed back on the highway.

An hour later, not passing a single motel, we decided to try again, this time pulling just off the main highway and sleeping in the back of the car. We locked the car doors and with it the outside world; all the crazies with hockey masks and scissors for hands.

Chana zipped our sleeping bags together. It was, after all, late October.

(to be continued…)