Join us on another totally relaxing weekend of landscape photography - you know, that soothing hobby where nothing ever goes wrong… until it does. Our doomed journey begins in the mystical forests of Nova Scotia, where the autumn colours should be glorious - if they’d actually shown up. With optimism fading faster than the leaves, we settle for a 60% success rate in “yellowness” and immediately earn a flat tire as a participation trophy. Thankfully, Amanda - aka The Tire Whisperer - takes charge while I provide crucial supervision from a safe, non-manual-labour distance. After limping home on the spare, we load up the camper and head for the Cabot Trail - armed with chocolate and Gaviscon, the two essential food groups of the travelling landscape photographer. The weather is weirdly scorching, the foliage is popping, and my creative juices begin flowing like a backed-up creek. That’s when I discover the Holy Grail: a waterfall so pretty it almost makes me forget my reeking boots. As I heroically wade into tepid water, risking trench foot for a decent reflection, Amanda fends off invisible cougars while I explain the profound “juxtaposition” in my composition - a term that I hope makes me sound artsy even if I've never looked up the definition. After a joyous shoot we retreat to the camper - a sanctuary filled with steak, Celtic sea salt, and the heady aroma of caustic 'boot-stench'. Amanda questions my decision to eat both steaks, but when you’ve been ankle-deep in waterfall sludge for art, you’ve earned your protein. Dessert? A luxurious slab of 78% dark chocolate, enjoyed while debating whether my thumbnail - freshly mangled in a truck door - is still attached... it’s not. Next morning, gale-force winds shake the camper like a cheap maraca, so we wisely decide not to be crushed by falling trees. Instead, we visit a petting zoo where I engage in high-stakes diplomacy with a pack of snack-obsessed talking goats and a smug donkey. All goes well until I get kissed by a cow. Will Amanda be able to jack up the car properly or will the kindness of strangers save the day? Is that really a desiccated scrotbag in her tea and what's the proper way to eat ribs? There's really only one way to find out.
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