It was mid-afternoon when I arrived in Winnipeg, and the radio station said it was 38 degrees (an even 100 Fahrenheit). My car is not air conditioned, so I checked in, headed upstairs to my room, and collapsed in the motel's air conditioning. I got a bit of a headache from the chilly air, but it was worth it. I spent over an hour on "siesta", which greatly refreshed me.
After relaxing at the motel I walked northward from the Journey's End along the strip. I walked nearly a mile scouting out the neighborhood, before finally stopping at a Dairy Queen for a bit of a snack. Dairy Queen doesn't seem to have the franchise standards that the fast food places do, and this place was rather run-down and dirty. I was getting warm again, though, so I stopped there anyway. A sign advertised that 50 cents from the sale of each Blizzard would be donated to a local children's hospital, so I decided to buy a Blizzard. With its $2.55 pricetag, it would seem they aren't losing anything by giving a couple quarters to charity.
I stopped by a mall on my way back to the motel. I bought some clothes (my favorite souvenir) at a Zeller's department store and some juice at a Safeway supermarket. I then returned to the motel and again collapsed in the air conditioning. I watched a bit of television while I cooled down.
Early in the evening I set out in my car. I had read that Winnipeg had a major zoo, and it seemed like an interesting place to explore. Winnipeg is not an easy city to drive in, but the information centre had given me a map that listed exactly the streets I wanted to know to get where I was going. I found the zoo with no problems, although I seemed to have parked by a back entrance. I was the only car in an enormous parking lot, and there was no one to collect admissions at the gate by that lot. I snuck in and enjoyed the zoo anyhow.
The Royal Assiniboine Zoological Gardens are enormous and well worth seeing (probably even if you did pay admission). The park itself is beautiful, and makes for a pleasant walk-even without any animals. The animals are actually nothing overly special-the place is a bit too heavy on birds, and there's nothing you can't see in Des Moines or Minneapolis or Sioux Falls-but I greatly enjoyed it. I spent over two hours just walking around there, not really stopping anywhere. It was great fun. All over the zoo there are concrete polar bears carrying signs asking for contributions to further the zoo's program. Since I had gotten in without paying, I made a point of feeding the polar bears a few dollars before I left.
The zoo is near the far west end of Winnipeg. From there I headed slightly northward on the Perimeter Highway and turned east onto Portage Avenue, the main cross-town boulevard. Just past the exit, I stopped for dinner at a Wendy's (oddly one of only three locations in this enormous city). I had some taco salad and continued eastward into downtown Winnipeg. After weaving through the one-way streets downtown I ended up on Pembina, heading southward toward the motel. I paused briefly at a Petro-Canada station to buy some gas (comparatively cheap at 46.2/litre or US$1.38/gallon) and then was back at the motel for the night.
While driving back from the downtown area I got stuck behind a motorcade of police cars, surrounding a large black limousine. I had no idea at the time what it was, but it certainly drove slowly.
The C.B.C. television news centered on the drought and its apparent underlying cause, the Greenhouse Effect. The drought has been extremely severe in the provinces of Saskatchewan and Alberta, where no measurable rain had fallen since March. The reporters talked about he rapid warming trend the earth seems to have been experiencing, and what effect this was likely to have on Canada. They acknowledged that huge areas of the prairies were likely to become near total desert, but hey also noted that overall Canada was likely to come out ahead of many other nations (and notably well ahead of the U.S.) if this warming trend actually does continue as predicted. Relatively little of Canada's urban population is coastal, so there won't be the huge flooding problems that cities such as New York and Miami are expecting. Because Canada's climate is generally cold now, the warming trend will tend to make it more temperate, rather than unbearably hot, as is predicted for the States. The reporters noted that large areas that are now undeveloped (like the northern prairies and the Northwest Territories) could become major farming areas. These are now far too cold for practical farming, but they are likely to warm to moderate temperatures, and if the central U.S. burns in temperatures above 120 (as is apparently predicted), Canada could well replace the American farm belt as the breadbasket of the world.
The main cause of this Greenhouse Effect, of course, is the burning of fossil fuels. On this point, I have always found it a bit hypocritical for Canada to harp on this and other ecological issues. Canada's pollution standards are far less than those in the States. Canadian cars have far less pollution control equipment than their American counterparts, and Canadian factories invariably spew raw smoke into the air. I have seen blue sky in cities like Chicago and New York in recent years, but Winnipeg is one of the few Canadian cities that is not buried in a thick brown haze. I can sympathize when I hear Canadians complain about acid rain, but I must also think of the paper mills and power stations that pollute the air even over rural Canada. Canada is actually far more enlightened than most of the world when it comes to pollution control (our trip to Mexico reinforced this notion), but it has a long way to go to catch up with its southern neighbor.
After the reports on the drought, I watched the local news. It turned out that the motorcade I got stuck behind belonged to the Governor General, the official head of state of all of Canada. Every few years the Queen names a Governor General to represent the throne in Canada. The current Governor General is a French-Canadian woman named Jeanne Suave (zhen so-VAY). She has no real governmental power, yet her name must appear on every bit of legislation before it becomes law. Aside from rubber-stamping bills, she appears in public around the country. Today she and her husband (the "first gentleman"?) were visiting a home for retarded children and also opening a new hospital in Winnipeg. They were probably driving to the airport when I saw them. Tomorrow they would be in Halifax, Nova Scotia, doing similar ceremonial functions.
After watching a bit more television, I fell asleep.
After a very good night's sleep, I left Winnipeg quite early this morning. I headed westward on the Perimeter Highway, but to provide some variety I quickly turned southwestward on Manitoba highway #2. I followed this road westward to the town of Starbuck, which brought back memories of the play The Rainmaker that some of my students did for speech a few years back. I continued heading westward to Elm Creek, where I turned north on highway #13, a roughly paved road that stretches things to be called "secondary". After a few miles I turned onto Canada's equivalent of a county road, which skirted the edge of a Canadian Forces Base (which seemed much better kept up than American military bases I have seen) and eventually led to the south edge of Portage la Prairie.
Steve and I had been in Portage la Prairie on our way out to Expo 86 in Vancouver. On that trip we followed the main drag, and I described the town as rather dumpy. By coming in through the back door this time I saw a much nicer part of the city. The county road turned into a street of stately old Victorian homes shaded by lush maple and oak trees. It made a most pleasant morning drive, and I must say I am far more impressed with Portage now than I was two years ago.
I stopped at Portage's McDonalds to catch a bite of breakfast. Manitoba's McDonalds were test-marketing a new product called "Omelette McMuffin"-which I, of course, had to try. As the name implies, the product is a cross between and Egg McMuffin and an omelette. You get scrambled eggs mixed with ham, cheese, and spices, served between halves of a buttered English muffin. The idea is okay, but I can't say I'd buy another. They went a bit overboard on the onions and garlic-especially for a breakfast food. The texture was a bit odd, too. I really like the tried and true Egg McMuffin, and I think I'll stick with that, thank-you.
The McDonalds in Thunder Bay struck me as expensive, but in Manitoba it is definitely the cheapest place to eat. A breakfast sandwich, a danish, juice, and coffee cost just Can$3.15 (US$2.59) in Portage, including 7% tax. The same order at the McDonalds in Algona would be $2.86. I may not eat fine cuisine when I travel, but three dollars does suit my budget well.
From Portage I again headed westward on the Trans-Canada Highway, which is still a four-lane expressway in central Manitoba. It's easy driving, but I was certainly thankful for the four lanes when I was passed by four triple-bottom trucks in a row. (I was trying to figure out how many wheels a triple-bottom would have, and I can't even picture it in my head-far more than eighteen, definitely.) The landscape is not particularly interesting here-a bit less flat than further east, but very dry and empty. Every now and then I hit construction-places where new asphalt was being poured in one lane or the other. I have yet to figure out why Canada has such a love affair with asphalt, but virtually every road in the country is black-topped, even this expressway. Only around Toronto have I seen any actual concrete.
After another hour I arrived in Brandon, which with 35,000 people or so is Manitoba's second largest city. I took the by-pass around the city, stopping only long enough to buy a cup of coffee at yet another McDonalds. Just past Brandon a billboard warns "NEXT MCDONALDS: 363 KILOMETRES". Fast food is widespread in Canada, but only in the cities. You don't see McDonalds and Hardees in every town of 5,000 like you do in the States-only in places that are major service centers. There are several significant town in the next 363 kilometres, but Regina (the end of that countdown) is the next place that matters.
The four-lane ended shortly after Brandon, and the terrain got significantly rougher. These are the high plains, north of the Badlands and Black Hills in the Dakotas. There are fewer real fields and much more grazing and ranchland. As I drove the radio kept giving details of how the drought had affected this area, and it's easy to see. Around Winnipeg things looked dry, but still green-much as they had looked in Iowa and Minnesota. Here some fields were plowed, but no crops appeared to be growing. The grass was almost all yellow, and dust blew across the fields. I would accept that as normal, except that when Steve and I traveled just slightly north of here in 1986 everything was a beautiful green (and it was rainy).
After another hour and a half I arrived at the Saskatchewan border. I stopped at the "Official Saskatchewan Welcome Station" to pick up a map and use the toilet, and then continued on my way. The road in Saskatchewan was much worse than it had been in Manitoba. It was a very rough black-topped surface, with numerous frost heaves, potholes, and tar heaps. Every few miles there was construction, which seemed to consist of dumping a mixture of oil and gravel on the road. Apparently the weight of all the traffic is supposed to turn the mixture into black-top. In the mean time it is a slippery surface that sends rocks flying every which way. It doesn't help that people drive too fast here. The speed limit is 100 km/h (62 mph), which is rather questionable considering the poor surface, but the locals just sailed right on past me. Saskatchewan is north of Montana and Wyoming, and you may remember it was those states that led the crusade to raise the American speed limit.
Along the highway almost every side road was marked with a sign saying "Qu'Appelle Valley Scenic Drive". While it's not an unattractive place, Saskatchewan is essentially the Kansas of Canada, and I couldn't help wondering what was so scenic about every road there. The landscape is much more rolling than in Manitoba, but it's all agricultural, and in a drought year not terribly attractive.
I stopped for gas in the town of Whitewood, paying 45.0 for a litre of unleaded (US$1.35/gallon), at a so-called "full-service" place where a very rude attendant barely pumped gas and wouldn't have thought of being bothered to wash the windshield. I then again set out westward.
As I drove the day got hotter and hotter. The radio said it was 36 (97 Fahrenheit) in Estavan, a nearby town-and it was barely noon. The air was extremely dry, and my throat became sore from the dryness. I got thirsty and pulled off the road in the town of Qu'Appelle (which for some reason is NOT on the scenic drive) to look for a drink. Qu'Appelle is a fairly large town (I looked it up, and the atlas says 600 people). It has two banks and a credit union, not to mention a hardware store, a Sears outlet, a mechanic, and an enormous Anglican church-and, of course, the "Wheat Pool" elevator. What it doesn't have is a grocery store, a convenience store, or even a vending machine. I spent fifteen minutes driving around this little town, only to drive out again still thirsty. Fortunately Qu'Appelle is relatively close to Regina (which may also be why it doesn't have a grocery store). The road is four-lane from there on in, and it's less than a half-hour's drive.
I passed another Journey's End Motel on my way into Regina, but its location was so far out in the country that it would have been extremely inconvenient. Instead I settled on the Relax Inn, a monster of a motel that sprawls over a full city block where the Trans-Canada meets Regina's beltway. Relax is another Canadian motel chain-Steve and I stayed at one in Edmonton on the trip out to Expo-and the price is identical to Journey's End. The value is somewhat less, though. Relax is really Canada's equivalent to Motel 6-very basic cement block construction with minimal furnishings and only adequate bathroom facilities. It was a place to spend the night, though, and it had the essential for the day-air conditioning. I relaxed for a while at the Relax, had a quick lunch, and then set out to see what there was in Regina.
Regina (pronounced with a long "i" (eye) sound-ruh-JINE-uh) is far from one of the world's great cities. While it is the capital and largest place in Saskatchewan, its population of 150,000 hardly makes it a major urban center. It is essentially the Des Moines of Canada-a fairly large city in the middle of a huge farming region, and a city that is virtually ignored by everyone who does not live nearby. There is not much of touristic interest in Regina; in one hot afternoon I saw nearly everything I could have wanted to see.
The city's most important "attraction" is the headquarters and training centre of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. This place serves primarily to train new Mounties to serve as Canada's police, but there is also a museum tracing the history of the organization. I drove through town and well beyond the western outskirts before finding the place. I turned into the compound and proceeded to drive for what seemed like forever before encountering a military-style checkpoint. A very serious old man asked me what business I had there, and I explained I was a tourist. He then told me in a very sing-song lilt, "Ah, then just follow 'de blue line; she'll take ye where you want to go." From the checkpoint onward a blue line was painted in the middle of the right-hand lane. It wound through a maze of service roads, past several huge brick buildings, and eventually into a parking lot. I parked my car, got out, and then followed the same blue line down a sidewalk and up to the front of a museum. I must say I started feeling like I was in a mis-colored Wizard of Oz. I also remembered when I took a friend in college to a hospital (St. Somebody's) at Kimball and San Marnin in Waterloo. Various colors of lines led all over the enormous hospital, each to some different department. (I distinctly remember that we had to follow green.) I suppose it is a way to keep from getting lost.
The museum looked small from the outside, but it was actually quite large. It took me more than an hour to go through, and I didn't dwell on anything. It traces the history of the police from fur-trading times to the present, and with it explains the history and lifestyle of Canada. It's really a fascinating museum. Dignified Mounties in their classic red uniforms guard the place and answer questions. They also lead tours over the grounds of the training centre. I joined two ladies from Hamilton (in southern Ontario) for a tour. Two newly-graduated constables showed us the RCMP chapel, a simple white building with a combination Catholic/Anglican altar in front and ugly windows that are apparently highly symbolic to those in the force. While there the Canadian ladies asked a number of questions about the life of the Mountie constables, and it was interesting to hear the young men answer them.
The Mounties are always trying to recruit new members. Pay is relatively low, but food and housing are provided for both the Mountie and his family. A constable has almost no choice of where he will be assigned. One of these two was from Quebec and had been assigned to guard government buildings in Ottawa, Canada's capital city. He said that most of the Quebecois are assigned there because they tend to be the most fluent in French and can get along with both French and English tourists better. The other man, who was from New Brunswick and was also bilingual, had been assigned to traffic patrol in rural Manitoba, which he said would have been his last choice of locations. Neither man was married, but they said that if they did marry their wives and children would live where they were posted. Most Mounties make a life's career out of the force. There used to be mandatory retirement at age 60,but today many Mounties retire on the government old-age pension (Canada's version of Social Security) at about age 70. About half of all Mounties die in the line of duty, most in traffic accidents. The RCMP pays all funeral expenses and buries its constables on the grounds here in Regina. There are some women in the RCMP, who are trained and assigned exactly the same way as men. The force is trying to recruit more women to make their numbers more balanced. The Mounties are the police everywhere in Canada except in Ontario and Quebec, and they seem very proud of their profession.
After seeing the chapel and hearing all about the RCMP, we were offered the opportunity to see the recruits in training elsewhere on the grounds. That sounded interesting to me, but the ladies from Hamilton said they had to leave. I didn't feel a tour for one was exactly appropriate, so I left too.
It was mercilessly hot as I walked back to my car, and there wasn't a breath of wind. The car, which had been locked up with the windows closed (I would never leave my car open without me in it) was, of course, even hotter. I sat for a few minutes letting it air out, and then set out again. The radio reported that he temperature was a record 41 degrees (106 Fahrenheit), and that water supplies were at an all-time low and rationing was in effect.
The other place of interest in Regina is Wascana (wuz-CAN-uh) Centre, a tree-filled quarter that he city proclaims is "North America's largest urban park". Wascana is home to the provincial parliament buildings, several museums and art galleries, and a huge artificial lake and beach area. I drove down to Wascana, parked in front of the parliament buildings, and looked around.
I could not tour the parliament buildings, because parliament was not in session. The beach and lake were closed due to the low water levels, and most of the museums and so forth seemed to be in some other section of the park. Undaunted, I found a trail and proceeded to hike through the park. Little did I know the trail would follow the shore of the lake for over four miles. Once I started I did not turn back, and I sweltered in the heat for the full length of the trail. As time went on I got very hot and very thirsty. I kept thinking there ought to be someone selling drinks or ice cream, or at least a water fountain somewhere in the park. There were a lot of people in the park, but all of them seemed to have brought in their own beverages. Finally, after completing almost the full circle of the trail, I found a drinking fountain and quenched my thirst. Then I walked back to my car, somewhat more refreshed.
From Wascana I drove southward and stopped at a small shopping center. It was now around 5pm, and I was astonished to see on the door that the mall closed at 5:30. I browsed around a bit and had a quick dinner at an A&W in the mall, and was out just as they were turning off the lights. I drove back to the motel and again enjoyed my room's air conditioning.
There wasn't much on television this evening, so I went out again and drove to a large mall near the motel. It too had closed at 5:30 (apparently it's a provincial law that no businesses be open at night). All that was open was a supermarket and pharmacy. I walked slowly through those two stores without buying a thing and then returned to the motel and got to sleep early.
I was up quite early this morning, leaving the motel by 6:30. There was a pancake house called Smitty's Restaurant next to the motel, so I stopped in there for breakfast. As I entered the host asked whether I preferred the smoking or non-smoking section, and I mechanically answered "non-smoking". He then proceeded to lead me to a remote side room, where I was seated by myself. There was no one else in the entire room. A waitress periodically came over from the main dining room (where everyone was smoking) to check on me, but I was obviously not her main customer. When I was almost finished with my meal an American couple was seated in the same room. After I left they were by themselves there. I knew Canadians smoked more than Americans, but this experience certainly rubbed in that point. The breakfast was a bit pricey, too. I had an omelette, juice, and coffee, and the tab came to Can$8.20, plus tip. That's US$6.75, which to my thinking seems a little steep for breakfast. The price included an 8% tax, but even considering that it's still somewhat high.
After breakfast I followed Queen Victoria Avenue (the street the motel was on) into town, where I turned northward onto Prince Albert Street. Downtown Regina is quite compact, but with a nice combination of old and modern. It's quite attractive, and in many ways it reminded me of Cedar Rapids. Of course nothing was open early in the morning; it wasn't even rush hour yet. So I kept on driving until Prince Albert turned into Saskatchewan highway #6 at the north end of the city.
About the time I got to the edge of town it started pouring. I am sure the locals were rejoicing, what with the drought and the water rationing and all, but I can't say I cared much for it. The rain poured in torrents, to the point that it was difficult to see out my windshield. It was accompanied by winds that the radio said were between 50 and 60 km/h (around 35 mph), that seemed to alternate between blowing my car into the wrong lane and blowing it into the ditch. The road was a rough level surface with potholes, and it wasn't long before it was badly flooded. I slowed down far below the 100 km/h speed limit, but most of the traffic seemed to sail right past me as if it were a sunny day.
A little less than an hour north of Regina I turned eastward on highway #22, yet another road that is part of the Qu'Appelle Valley Scenic Drive. After seeing all those signs for it yesterday, I figured I might as well at least se what all the fuss was about. I must say that the area is indeed scenic, but it's certainly not so spectacular as to require a detour. Though it's not much more than a trickle, the Qu'Appelle (which basically means "un-named river" in French) is southern Saskatchewan's largest river. Its banks are lined with pleasant green hills, and there are some quaint old river towns along the route. Nice as it is, though, it seems a bit over-rated with all the signs. I think I might have enjoyed it more, except that I was fighting rain and bad roads all the way through it. It didn't make for a particularly pleasant drive under those circumstances.
From the Qu'Appelle Valley I drove northeast on highway #10, past the town of Melville and into Yorkton. Steve and I had been through Yorkton when we took the Yellowhead Highway westward two years ago, but we only stopped long enough to buy gas then. By the time I got there this morning it had stopped raining, and my nerves were shot from a morning of tense driving, so I decided to stop and look around the town. I bought gas at an enormous Esso "gas bar" for 49.2/litre ($US1.42/gallon) and browsed through a couple of discount stores on the west edge of town. I then drove into the city proper to see what there was to see.
With its population of 10,000, Yorkton is the fifth largest place in Saskatchewan. It also must be the smallest place in North America with a city bus service. All over town there are ancient red monsters that look like converted school buses that will take you where you want to go for $1.50 (US$1.25). Yorkton also has taxis on taxis and a number of rental car outlets. You definitely get he impression this is a bigger place than it is. I passed on the public transportation, parked my car at a meter (15 cents), and walked around the downtown area.
Downtown Yorkton is very dumpy and rather dead. In fact it's about the only town I've been to that has a higher percentage of empty buildings than Algona. Many buildings are crumbling, and even those in use are in need of maintenance. There are some stores left, but it's mostly bars and hotels that have long since seen their better days. The shoppers seem very heavy on elderly people, and so do the store clerks. Other than the oldsters, there are a lot of drunks around downtown Yorkton; every empty doorway seems to reveal another. It's one of the few places in Canada I did not feel entirely safe.
I soon found the Yorkton McDonalds, which looks like an urban renewal project in the midst of this downtown mess. I sought refuge inside and had coffee and a danish. I then returned to my car and set off for other parts of town. At the east edge of the city I found the reason why downtown was so dead. For as small of a city as it is, Yorkton has one of the largest malls I have seen in a long time. The place is shaped like a star, with a major store at the end of each of five hallways. There are branches of Eaton's, the Bay, and Sears-plus a K-Mart and a Safeway supermarket. The middle is a restaurant area, and the hallways are of course lined with assorted clothing stores, shoe stores, gift shops, pharmacies, booksellers, tanning spas, jewelers, and the like. The place was at least as large as the malls I visited in Regina, and I'm still pondering how large of a market area they must serve. I browsed through the mall and did a small bit of shopping, and then had an Orange Julius in the food court. By then it had started raining again, but I was refreshed enough to continue driving anyway.
From Yorkton it's about 35 miles on to the Manitoba border. For this entire distance the road was pitiful. Saskatchewan's roads certainly rank among the worst I have ever been on. They may be marginally better than those in Portugal or Prince Edward Island, but they are certainly bad overall. Oddly, they frequently seem to be under construction, but I can' say I saw many places where the construction did much good. A large portion of this stretch was labeled as a construction area. What that meant was that for over 20 miles they had spread that gravel and oil mixture on top of the road surface, without bothering to smooth out the potholes or crown the surface of the road for drainage. In the rain it made an awful mess to drive through. It took a full hour to get through this last bit of Saskatchewan, and I almost seriously could have kissed the ground when I finally got to Manitoba.
When I got to the provincial border I saw a sign welcoming me to the "Northern Manitoba Regional District". If you look at a map you will see how odd it is that the place I was should be considered "northern". I entered Manitoba on provincial highway #5, near the town of Roblin. That's about 150 miles north of the U.S. border, but less than a fourth of the way north through the province. It is, however, about the northern extent of the developed area. North of here the roads get sparse, and there are only a few mining towns here and there. Southward it's pretty regularly settled farm country. Nonetheless I would like to see how those "regional district" boundaries are drawn.
I had planned to have lunch in the city of Dauphin, a place of about 10,000 people about an hour's drive into Manitoba. When I got there, though, I followed the highway and proceeded to entirely avoid the city. It wasn't until I found a sign pointing northward to Dauphin that I realized I had by-passed it so completely. I'm not normally one for backtracking, so I turned southward on highway #10 and kept on going on my way.
Not far south of Dauphin there is a national park called Riding Mountain. The highway cuts through the middle of the park, and I stopped at the toll gate at the park entrance. I was surprised when the guard told me that if I was simply going through on the highway there was no entrance charge. I thanked him, however, and then went on my way. The park is nothing special, but it is a pleasant tree-filled space in the middle of endless fields. There are wildlife signs everywhere, and I saw a couple of deer as I drove through the park. I don't know that I would go back here any time soon, but it was a pleasant place to drive through.
I should mention that there was a road construction on the highway through the park, too. However, in Manitoba something actually seems to be done when there is a construction zone. They were actually spreading asphalt and painting center markings. It's interesting, too, that no one in Canada seems to use either detours or pilot cars when there is construction. In Manitoba there is always a person with a stop sign as you approach the construction zone. He or she speaks to you and explains precisely what is involved ("you'll find some big asphalt spreaders for the next four kilometers, so be sure to stay far to the right"), and then you drive on your way. If it's a heavy traffic area, then you take turns with cars going the other direction. The system really works quite well. Ontario got by without the people. There they had signs and pylons that usually directed you to drive on the shoulder while workers repaired the main road-again with no detours or pilot cars. Saskatchewan never seems to have any people at their construction sites-neither sign turners nor construction workers-you just plow through the mess as best you can.
The rain had stopped by the time I was in the park, but it was afternoon now and getting hotter by the minute. I continued southward to the town of Minnedosa and on into the city of Brandon (which, you'll remember I went through just yesterday morning). It was very early to stop, but I was hot and hungry, so I pulled into Brandon's Journey's End and got a room for the night.
After relaxing a while I set out to explore Brandon. It's interesting that his is one of the few places I have been in Canada that looks and feels like the size of place it is. Most Canadian cities ether act larger than they are (like Yorkton) or smaller than they are (like most towns in the 5,000 population range). Brandon has between 30,000 and 40,00 people, and it seems like precisely that size of community. Much of the city is quite an ugly place, with really dumpy old brick buildings that could be straight out of Ottumwa or Fort Dodge. Downtown has definitely not died, though. Brandon built its main mall right downtown (like the one in Mason City), and at street level most of the buildings are quite well kept up. Away from downtown there are lovely tree-lined avenues that could be straight out of Iowa City, with simple but pretty homes along them. Further away are 1950s developments, with tight-packed identical homes that look like Moline or Rock Island. And, spread throughout the city are new apartment buildings, similar to those you'd find in any American city of the same size. There are two main suburban strips that lead toward discount stores and fast food chains, and there are two main factory districts where a strange assortment of goods are assembled (they make cooking oil and lawn chairs in Brandon). The place has a small university and a junior college, as well as a prison and the provincial mental asylum (I almost felt like I was back in Mt. Pleasant). The only real reason a tourist would stop in Brandon is that it is "on the way", roughly halfway between Winnipeg and Regina. Not being much of a tourist town, though, it's a very pleasant, very livable city, and I enjoyed it immensely.
In Brandon I bought a clock/thermometer for my car, which I have enjoyed playing with ever since. I picked it up at a Canadian Tire store for $9.95 (US$8.19) and mounted it on the dash with Velcro. It has a digital clock and a switch that shows you the current temperature in either Fahrenheit or Celsius. Like all liquid crystal displays, it turns solid black in the intense heat found when the car is left in the sun. When I start driving and the car cools down, it gradually reverts to its normal display. It's interesting that the first temperature it registers is 139.7 degrees Fahrenheit (59.8 Celsius). I had often wondered just how hot cars got when left in the sun; I always knew it was extremely hot, but I'm not quite sure I wanted to know it was over 140 degrees.
I had tacos for dinner, went back to the motel, and relaxed. I cleaned out the car and organized my things, and then I got to sleep quite early.
I didn't rush to get off this morning, but I was still on my way before 7:30. I stopped at a Burger King for breakfast and then continued southward on highway #10. This road leads past the town of Boisevein and on to the International Peace Garden, a huge complex of trees and flowers planted on the Manitoba/North Dakota border. I had been there at least twice before with my family, but never so early in the season. I paid $4.00 (in Canadian dollars, although they charged the same fee in U.S. dollars, too) and drove around the park. There were a few petunias in bloom, but most of the place was just being planted. Irrigation sprinklers were on everywhere, and signs asked for contributions to help pay for the water. I drove through the park quickly, got a couple of photos, and was on my way. I can't say it was worth $4.00, and I certainly didn't pay extra for the sprinklers.
The Peace Garden entrance is located between the Canadian and U.S. customs buildings on the border. From the exit you must drive directly to one of the two customs posts. I turned right to head for America and drove straight up to the inspection station. This was yet another intensive customs examination. The officer (a man, like all American customs people) was quite friendly, but very thorough. He asked a large number of questions and then asked to get into my car. He looked in the glove compartment, searched quickly through some bags that were on the passenger's seat, and found a folder that contained my passport. He carefully looked at every page in the passport, noticed some Canadian money in the same folder, and asked several questions about how much money I had. I had absolutely nothing to hide, and I calmly answered all of his questions. Eventually he was satisfied and told me to go on my way. He never did look through any of my luggage, nor did he open the hatchback to see what might have been there. It's difficult to imagine that a real smuggler would be so dumb as to hide something in the glove compartment or on the passenger seat, but I guess the officer must know what he is doing. I got back into my car again and drove away.
From the Peace Garden I followed a variety of highways angling southward to Devil's Lake. I stopped briefly there to buy some gas and something to drink and then headed eastward on U.S. highway #2 (a lovely four-lane road) to Grand Forks, where I had lunch. I crossed the Red River at Grand Forks and drove eastward into Minnesota. I had never before been in northwestern Minnesota. It's a rather pretty part of the state-gently rolling farm country, definitely different from the forest land you expect in the northern part of the state. I drove eastward to the town of Erskine, where I turned south on U.S. #59.
For nearly 70 miles along highway #59 I followed a truck hauling a mobile home that was driving just under the speed limit. The road was curvy and narrow, with no place to pass. It got a bit more aggravating driving just under the speed limit, but eventually I resigned myself to it and just followed along, together with a long train of cars behind me.
I stopped for the night in the town of Fergus Falls, yet another town Steve and I were through on our way west. I found a Super 8 Motel there and checked in. I haven't stayed in a lot of Super 8s, but most of the ones I have been in have been pleasant places. This one was definitely the exception. My room was in the basement, with a small window near the ceiling that looked out at people's license plates in the parking lot. It was a tiny room with only the minimum of furniture. In various places in the room there were four doors that seemed to lead to nowhere. They were locked from my side, but I could not tell if they were locked from the other side or not. The floor above me creaked, and there was not sufficient hot water. None of these is a major problem, but overall this is not a motel I'd recommend. I wasn't there long, though. I had a bite of dinner at a nearby Wendy's, watched some TV, and went to sleep.
I left the motel very early this morning, stopping briefly for breakfast at the Country Kitchen next door. I drove southward through central Minnesota, stopping only occasionally for coffee or gas. I drove past Sauk Centre, Sleepy Eye, and Fairmont, before entering Iowa and heading home. It was a very hot drive, even in the morning. It was about lunchtime when I arrived in Algona, and I quickly picked up my mail, turned on the air conditioner, and collapsed at home.
WHAT DID YOU LIKE THE BEST?
Winnipeg. I've been there twice before, and I'll probably go back again. It's a very pleasant, livable place, and I thoroughly enjoyed visiting the city.
WHAT DID YOU LIKE THE LEAST?
Other than a couple of bad motel rooms, there was nothing I seriously disliked on this trip. Probably the worst thing was the rather dull drive across Saskatchewan. I was less impressed with this province than I had been on previous trips; really I was rather underwhelmed. Even it, though, was not unpleasant.
This was the longest trip I ever made by myself, and while there were a number of strange and annoying things, I must say I thoroughly enjoyed it. I took seven days and covered 2719.7 miles, nearly doubling the mileage on the odometer of my car. It made a refreshing change from the school year, and a nice start to summer vacation.
--2004 David M. Burrow
The background music on this page is "Tomorrow Belongs to Me", the young Nazis theme from the movie Caberet.