Hey, weight a minute -- Departure T-Minus 15 days

Done and dusted.

The emergency box of belongings has been posted, the secondary box of non-emergency "jeez this would be nice to have when we get to Newfoundland" items has also been posted and a dozen bottles of our finest wines are winging their way to St Anthony Post Office -- 71.32kg in all for the princely sum of $187.89.

Now we must wait and see if they:

A) Arrive
B) Arrive undamaged
C) Arrive with everything still in them

I am not saying I don't trust Canada Post, they have done nothing untoward in the past except for bollockings my New Scientist subscription, but I just wonder how the magical postal system will react to packages that contain our lives. I don't mind putting my belongings in the hands of burly Silver back men in a delivery van but the postal system baffles me.

While Canada Post refuse to confirm the rumour, I heard their postal system past Saskatchewan is based on a series of well trained moose, a raccoon called Impatience and a multi-tongued man named Gary Reynolds, a God-like postmaster who dresses in pink pantaloons held up by fireman's red braces, refers to himself as the Mail Messiah and who it is said can lick a thousand stamps inside an hour.

Of course it is all rumours.

A right royal boxhead -- Departure T-Minus 23 days

Contained herewith is a lesson on why you should never let me go box shopping alone.

Let me set the scene.

It's a rainy Monday, the windscreen wipers squelch as traffic builds, all the while I am thinking "surely not all these people are heading to U-Haul to buy boxes."

I was right -- mid-morning traffic in North Van was torture, not water boarding but there was water involved, slippery roads tight curves, an unfamiliar car (Note: Ian and Jordan, I didn't do anything crazy in your car I was simply adding drama to a somewhat boring story) and a delightful discussion on CBC Radio with Irish writer Will Ferguson on hiking the Ulster Way.

The hastily printed Google Map was unusually accurate and I pulled into U-Haul drove around the car park realising it wasn't the car park but in fact where all the rental trucks were parked and headed back onto the road to find another car park, which I did quite smartly.

To the surprise of the staff I burst through the doors and headed for the boxes and suffered from a case of Goldilocks Syndrome. The first box was too small, the second box, way too big but the third box, it was perfect, or so it seemed.

I had all the dimensions in my mind, the maximum allowable by Canada Post was two linear metres so when I saw that box I was giddy which of course is all part of their advertising plan. Swinging gently in eyesight was the sign -- buy 10 boxes and save. Now I am all for bargains and this was one. I saved $5 by buying 10 boxes so I only paid $45 (plus tax). With 10 metres of bubble wrap, packing tape and fragile stickers in tow I headed home triumphant at a successful day out.

I slapped them on my back and lugged them up the stairs sitting them proudly in the lounge room. Em returned home from work and cocksure like a Bower bird, I strutted around flapping my arms espousing the grandness of my purchase.

My beautiful wife took one look, shook her head.

"They are big," she started.
"Yes but think of all the things we can fit in them," I replied.
"But they are really big. I mean really big in fact they are probably too big."

And she was right. I trial packed one today and it was nightmarish although we will need one for shipping our large items, Kitchenaid, speakers et al.

Now I am I am not going to put this down to a hardwired male brain thing but my own inability to see a larger picture.

I was brought up in the "less boxes are better" school of thought and as fine as that sounds when you have a trailer or a truck to move them, along with a trolley, a few of your mates and some beer, but when you are mailing them to one of the world's outposts, actually to your wife's office because you don't have anywhere to live nor a car to transport them when you get there, it is probably best to scrap that "bigger is better" school of thought for something more, let's say, conservative.

Just because the dimensions say two linear metres doesn't mean you have to get boxes that just sneak under. And the weight limit, 30kg. It's not much to lift if it was in a smaller box but when you can barely wrap your arms around these ones, well you have to admit defeat.

I still gave myself a pat on the back for trying and although it wasn't so much a job well done, we have learnt a valuable lesson. I am much like Jack and the Beanstalk, send me on a mission to buy boxes and you'll never know what you'll end up with.

My wife is (maybe) a super hero and a cunning plan -- Departure T-minus 24 days

"I've got it," I announced loudly into Em's ear forcing her to recoil away in agony.

"Sorry," I whispered, "I've got it.

Since the operation to have four wisdom teeth removed Em's hearing has been super sensitive meaning she has been sporting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ear muffs I bought weeks ago, as a random yet totally shreddin' gift, to soften the sound.

Maybe childhood memories are influencing my current behaviour but when Em joked -- a quiet yet rambunctious joke considering her ailment -- that perhaps the operation has given her some kind of super power like an X-Men character, I nodded my ahead in agreeance.

We both laughed however I wasn't joking.

My wife, an X-Woman with the ability of super hearing but to prevent her from going mental with all the background noise in life, she had to kick around in TMNT earmuffs.

I'm sorry but that awesome.

Not saying that Em isn't awesome enough already, she is ... hang on, how big of a hole am I digging myself here?

Nevertheless I have come up with a cunning plan, one that doesn't include world domination which in a cruel twist of fate would be foiled by Em with her super-hearing-super-power but one that entails getting our belongings across Canada.

Having decided Canada Post as the most economical option for transporting our gear the next step is making sure we get the right sized boxes (anything under two metres in total length) and the right weights (under 30kg).

Our biggest issue is our tea cup and saucer collection which now totals 20. Odd you say. Not in the least and here is a four-point list of why this kind of behaviour is quite normal.

1. Em and I love tea, actually the only people who don't like tea are fascists.
2. Em hosts amazing tea parties.
   
3. T is the 20th letter in the alphabet (okay that's more of a spooky coincidence than anything else).
4. Collecting tea spoons is so last century.

The tea cups are part of our life but being the fragile China they are, not the easiest thing to transport across 7000km. Bubble wrap I hear you say and yes, you are right but you've gone one step too far.

Why send them if they don't need to be sent? Eh? Eh? Eh? See my point?

So, my theory is we bubble wrap them, box them then instead of sending them to no-fixed address in St Anthony (bear in mind we still haven't found a house to rent yet so everything is being mailed to Em's new office) we simply ask one of our friends to post them when we need them. No point getting to St Anthony on a chilly winter morn to find boxes of belongings that have nowhere to be stored and will need to be transported again and again and again. Nope, it's much safer to leave them in Vancouver and wait until we have a place of our own to store them.

That goes the same as our Jesus-candle collection, typewriter collection and world globes.

Never let it be said that I am not a logical soul and never let it be said that we don't have unique tastes in collectibles.

The mechanics and mathematics of buying a car, traveling with a heavy cat and shipping our life across Canada -- T-minus 29 days

"Are you okay," my wife asked last night.

"Mmm, mmm, yes" I replied in the midst of my first 'official' freak out complete with heart palpitations, bending intestines and cold sweats.

I'm not sure what set me off but for a few moments last night the thought of moving to Newfoundland made me queasy but my wife's calming hand on my arm and reassurances that "everything is going to be alright", set me at ease.

I think we are going to take turns in having mini-meltdowns when we discuss the logistics of this adventure, we worked out last night the equation that:

more money = more sanity however our serious lack of funds means that this adventure will be more of a challenge, just like The Amazing Race, except without all the whiney American divorcees who think racing around the world, when they have never left their State let alone the country, will somehow bring them back together.

Nope this is a challenge and my wife and I are good at challenges and the more I can break challenges down into science and mathematical equations the easier it will be so this post will be in three acts.

Act I
The purchasing of the car
(Sight Unseen)

I've owned a lot of cars and they have all ended their life the same way, at the scrapyard.

My first car was a Datsun 180b with two working cylinders my final car was a Hyundai Excel, dubbed The Little Green Teabag of Doom for the way it not so much turned corners as it slid and dipped around them thanks to seized ball joints.

Buying a car sight unseen then would appear to be a dangerous exercise however I think the problem of transport in St Anthony has been solved.

Enter the 1994 Chevy Cavalier.

Our biggest concern on arriving in Corner Brook was that we need a car to get the 10-hours to St Anthony (see map on first post for scale). That being said on our current budget of $0.00 it is going to be hard.

That was until we came across this gem for $800 (or best offer). The ball joints are shot but for $150 they can be repaired so we shot off an email to that effect. Before hand though I scoured the mighty interwebz to find out all I could about the 1994 Cavalier and here is what I discovered.

One reviewer stated:

Likes: no-nonsense low-cost car
Dislikes: lack of refinement, sluggish performance with auto transmission and four-cylinder engine.

I say: I am not overly concerned if it's sluggish. We are not rally car drivers and with all those suicide moose, we'd be mad to want to drive fast.

Another reviewer said:

Good:
"Good fuel economy" (Me: That's a good sign)
"I loved the car" (Editorialised comment ignored)
"Comfortable" (Meh, if I wanted comfort I'd buy a new car)
"No leaks (in convertible)" (Surely this doesn't mean ours will leak because it's not a convertible?)
"Extremely dependable even after 178,000 miles" (That sounds positive)
"Nice riding car"

Bad:
"It’s a little noisy" (Boo)
"Clutch a bit notchy" (What do you expect with automatic?)
"ABS brakes produce too much judder" (Judder. They said judder. Wicked)
"Brakes could be better"

My mind started racing at the thought of fuel economy so I did the math.

The 1994 Cavalier has a 15 gallon fuel tank, 120hP, 2.2 litre, 3-speed automatic apparently get s 23 miles to the gallon in "city" driving and 33 miles to the gallon in "highway" driving

So on a tank of petrol we can expect to travel 345km (city) or 495km (highway)

Now the prices of refueling at current rates in St Anthony are about 116.2 c/litre and being that there is 3.78 litres to the US Gallon that puts our empty fuel tank at 56.7 litres however that would be more like 55 litres because you are not going to have an empty tank which means that at current prices, to fill the tank will cost us: $63.91 which for almost 500km of driving isn't bad although a quick check of Google Maps shows that it is 468km between Corner Brook and St Anthony so that trip may be a stretch however for an alleged 11 hours of driving that isn't bad.

Act II
The Kitty Conundrum
(A case of cat nip and tuck, meow)

The reason we saved Sir Richard from the SPCA was because my wife and I wanted a big cat, the bigger the better so when we saw our 10kg behemoth it was love at first sight.

Now considering how much it will cost to take him with us I wonder if that was such a smart choice.

The problem is the dimensions for a soft carrier that would allow us to bring him on as hand luggage also won't allow us to fit him inside.

At 27cm high, 40cm wide and 55cm long, you would think you could fit a small puma inside but alas that is not the case, plus his weight and the weight of the carrier break every single Air Canada regulation hence we have to go for a hard shell and put him under the fuselage.

Not the most ideal scenario but he'll be drugged to the eyeballs so he won't miss any of the scenery and the fact he snore louder than me, sleeps 22 hours of the day and only wakes to eat or wake us up so we can watch him eat, well, I think he will be fine.

There is a small part of me however that feels bad for giving him the crappy seat on the trip. It's like that person who has to sit in the middle of the back seat straddling the glovebox and being drooled on by their brother and sister on either side.

Act III
The Boy in the Bubble Wrap
(Package me up Scotty)

The other issue was just how to get our belongings across with us. We consulted a packaging and freight company who were going to charge us about $500 to send two boxes that were 25 inches X 25 inches and 30 inches high of no more than 98kg in weight.

That sounded alright until we worked out that boxes slightly smaller than that weighing 30kg will cost us $65 via Canada Post so that's what we are going to do.