Yesterday had every ingredient necessary to become a bad day. Not every reason in the world—that is probably a Kathryn exaggeration—but enough of them.

We rented a car in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, intending to drive to the Tablelands in Gros Morne National Park. The car was small, low to the ground and uncomfortable for Ray. Getting in and out wasn’t easy for him, but that alone wouldn’t have ruined the day.

Our first stop was Tim Hortons. Oh my gosh, the line was nearly out the door. Canadians apparently take Tim Hortons even more seriously than Americans take Starbucks. I bought a pumpkin spice muffin with 380 calories, making it a fairly substantial cheat before we had even begun our adventure.

I didn’t know we would lose phone service, but after my experience at Peggy’s Cove, I knew it could happen. My phone had lost its signal several times there, and fortunately that rental car had its own navigation system. Remembering that, I specifically selected—and paid extra for—a GPS when I reserved this car.

At the rental counter, the woman indicated that the car came with what we needed. I explained that I was worried about depending on my phone. Then the man came outside and told us, “It’s simple. You can’t miss it. Take the Trans-Canada Highway east until you see the giant moose. At the moose, turn north onto Route 430.”

That was where his directions ended and our dependence on GPS began. What he didn’t tell us was that we would eventually need to leave Route 430 and turn onto Route 431 toward the Tablelands.

We didn’t notice the sign and didn’t know another turn was required. We believed the Tablelands would eventually appear somewhere ahead of us on the road we were already following. When my phone lost its signal, the navigation disappeared with it.

We don’t carry paper maps anymore. Without phone service, we had no directions, no map and no idea whether we were still going the right way. We weren’t. By the time we realized it, we had driven nearly two hours in the wrong direction.

Trouble Was Following Us From Home

While we were already lost and frustrated, our neighbor in Oklahoma called to say that one of our dogs was in his backyard. I was trying to send messages through an intermittent phone signal, explaining that our nephew Daniel would be home around 4:00 and could retrieve the dog.

The neighbor responded, “I guess I don’t have a choice.” There was absolutely nothing I could do from a mountain road in Newfoundland. Ray was upset about the neighbor, I was upset about being lost, and both of our frustrations were beginning to feed each other.

Eventually, we found a visitor center. They told us we needed to turn around and drive approximately an hour and twenty minutes back in the direction we had just come from.

Fortunately, there was enough internet at the visitor center for me to consult my AI service dog. I explained where we were, where we wanted to go, what time we needed to return the car and when we needed to be back aboard the ship.

It calculated that we could still make it, but we needed to turn around immediately, drive directly there, jump out long enough to see it and take a few pictures, and then head back.

That was when I could feel Ray’s frustration and mine beginning to come together. So I said, “We can make this a bad day, or we can make it a good day. Let’s look at the beauty of where we are.”

The Day Changed When We Did

Nothing outside the car had changed. We were still lost. We had still lost two hours. The dog was still somebody else’s problem until Daniel got home. We still had a long drive ahead of us and a ship we could not afford to miss.

But we changed what we were looking at. The scenery reminded us of places we had seen before. I thought it looked a little like the Smoky Mountains and a little like Arkansas. Ray added a little Missouri.

It was beautiful—not necessarily the most beautiful country we had ever seen, but beautiful enough that I kept trying to capture it with my phone. The pictures never quite showed what I could see.

Maybe I need to learn more about photography. Maybe I need a fancy camera, although I don’t particularly want to spend the money on one. Or maybe some beauty simply cannot be flattened into a photograph. You have to stand inside it—even when approximately 1,500 small critters are trying to crawl and fly all over you.

We reached the Tablelands. We didn’t have time for a long hike or an extended visit, but we got out, looked around and took our pictures. Then we headed back with ample time to return the car and reach the ship.

The two hours weren’t completely wasted. We had driven through beautiful country, and once we stopped concentrating exclusively on what had gone wrong, we began enjoying where the wrong turn had taken us.

The Problems Started Solving Themselves

When we returned the rental car, we received an unexpected bonus. The Enterprise staff drove us back to the port, so we didn’t have to pay for an Uber.

That taught me another practical lesson: transportation to and from the rental office needs to be included when comparing rental prices. Enterprise is known for offering local pickup and drop-off service, but from now on, I will call the specific location beforehand and confirm it.

Avis had advertised pickup at our previous port, but when we arrived, that location did not provide it. From now on, I will compare the total cost of renting a car—including Uber or taxi rides—not merely the advertised rental price.

Then we heard from Daniel again. Our Nest thermostat was set to 68 degrees, but the temperature inside our Oklahoma house had climbed into the 80s. We thought we might have an air-conditioning problem or need someone to replace the thermostat while we were thousands of miles away.

Daniel, who is more computer-literate than either of us, investigated and found an automated setting that adjusted the temperature when the thermostat believed nobody was home. He changed the setting, and the problem was solved.

The dog was also back in our yard by the time Daniel arrived. We still don’t know exactly how he got there, but he was home and safe. I decided not to message the neighbor and reopen the discussion. One less thing to worry about.

Even our crowded Walmart stop taught us something. We learned that we could not simply transfer and renew Ray’s American prescriptions at a Canadian Walmart. We’ll handle that when we reach Seattle, and we may learn how to have Walmart or DoorDash deliver them to our hotel.

That will be another new experience for these Boomers.

What I Learned Yesterday

I learned to download an offline map before driving anywhere with unreliable phone service.

I learned not to accept “You can’t miss it” as complete directions.

I learned to call the individual rental-car location and verify whether it really provides transportation.

I learned to include Uber and taxi costs when comparing rental prices.

I learned that a smart thermostat may occasionally be smarter than its owners.

I learned that Canadians take Tim Hortons very seriously.

I learned that beautiful scenery can coexist with approximately 1,500 annoying critters.

Most importantly, I learned that frustration can occupy the same day as beauty without being allowed to own the entire day.

We could have returned to the ship talking only about the cramped car, missing GPS, wrong road, neighbor, dog, thermostat and prescriptions.

All of those things happened. But so did the mountains. So did the water. So did the clouds.

So did the moment when Ray and I stopped feeding each other’s frustration and chose to look around.

The day didn’t become good because everything bad disappeared. It became good because we stopped giving everything that went wrong authority over everything that was still right.

We couldn’t control the wrong turn, the disappearing phone signal or the problems happening at home. But we could decide what we looked at next.

Yesterday was imperfect.

It was also beautiful.

Both things are true.

And I no longer believe any day I’m given is merely ordinary.