Heading South

After leaving Valleyview in the Peace River District headed south to stay at a campground on the Athabasca River beside the highway in Whitecourt, the principal city before you reach Edmonton. Got gasoline at ESSO and shopped at IGA. The grocery store was well-stocked but nothing was very fresh as little is grown locally. Sagitawah RV Park was nearly fully booked with oil patch workers.

On Thursday, October seventh I continued south taking the Cowboy Highway recently celebrated in song by Corb Lund for the CBC. Highway 22 has been re-aligned and recently paved making it a dart straight roadway that lacks any opportunity to pull off and admire the Rocky Mountain Foothills it gives access to. Upon reaching Rocky Mountain House I encountered a horror of highway construction that continued as I drove east toward Red Deer. That great navigator and cartographer David Thompson would have had a hard time finding the remains of the Hudsons Bay Post at which he spent two winters. I managed to find the Visitor’s Centre/Museum and discovered its agents out to lunch. Sylvan Lake will be forever etched in my mind for the construction equipment and broken roads I had to maneuver downtown and the raised intersections along Lakeshore Dr.

For the next week I marked time at Ol MacDonalds Resort on Buffalo Lake north of Stettler.  In the shape of an upside-down Buffalo the lake provides sandy beaches for several parks. A going concern in summer this place was shut down and the water turned off save for the electricity and on again/off again Wi-Fi. With no one else there for most of the time but the caretakers I enjoyed serenity and the howl of the coyotes at night. Spent a couple nights up by the beach and caught some beautiful shots and a visit from a pileated woodpecker. I wish I could say I had an opportunity to view the aurora but the bright lights of Edmonton to the North, Red Deer to the West, and powerful yard light to the east made that impossible.

Driving south from Red Deer I stopped at the Alberta Motor Association in Calgary to arrange Emergency Medical Coverage for the winter and headed south to Lethbrige. Henderson Lake Campground is located in the middle of a series of civic parks and next door to the Exhibition Grounds. On Saturday the weekly Farmer’s Market was overrun with electoral hopefuls vying for election, 3 for the position of mayor and 30 for 8 aldermanic seats. Loads of Brussels sprout trees and pumpkins on offer along with the usual baked goods, Elk and Buffalo Jerky, sausages, Mennonites and Hutterites in flowing beards, preserves, handmade soaps, and other handicrafts. Mead I know but alfalfa wine?

Sunday Morning made church at Immanuel Lutheran located in the new community located in an Oxbow of Oldman River. After service I headed off to the border at Coutts/Sweetgrass. After a 45 minute line-up I was asked to surrender my tomatoes. Three hour waits are not unheard of and three small tomatoes were a minor inconvenience compared to what might have been. That night Dick’s RV Park was located in a triangle of land between the Missouri River, Hwy 15, and the railway tracks with airport across the highway. At least the washroom across from my site was open.

Monday night in Billings Montana the water was shut down along with everything else but the hydro. Remind me that it is not a good idea to drive 300 miles in one day--not for me in any case. Following my GPS I headed down I-15 past Helena and the road to Missoula thinking the while of Norman MacLean and A River Runs Through It. Near the town of Cascade I made a stop at a pullout and overlook marking the Saint Peter’s Mission home for fourteen years to one Louis Riel who taught there before returning for the fateful rebellion of 1874. Later at the interchange with Hwy 90 another overlook gave views of Butte, ostensibly underlain by 10,000 miles of mine shafts which yielded millions of tons of gold, silver, lead and other minerals. Opposite on the heights stands a White Madonna and her chapel. Heading east most roads south lead to Yellowstone National Park but alas the place is largely closed at this point in the season. Yellowstone River RV Park was a peaceful respite from the highway and a walk to the river provided views of the rocky outcrops opposite.

On Wednesday October 20th drove uptown to shop at Albertsons passing the Women’s Prison, Police Station, Probation Service, and City Hall on the way. After a welter of one-way streets even my GPS couldn’t navigate made it to the Flying J Truckstop for gasoline and propane. Gas varies widely in price it seems. Heading south into Wyoming there is little to relieve the eye save for yellow-brown grass, the yellow leaves of the poplars near creeks and streams, purple sagebush, and blue-grey rocky outcrops. With a base of largely sandy soil there are so many bumps and depressions in the highway they don’t bother to mark them. The city of Casper, Wyoming is so-named after a Lieutenant Caspar because a city clerk couldn’t spell. The Fort Caspar RV Park occasioned my rant over Wi-Fi-Rv and with its ill-natured revolting signs made me come to describe the experience as mean-spirited. It was one place I was happy to leave.

The nearby National Historic Trail Centre was the one place the gal at the Wyoming Welcome Centre told me I had to see, the free coffee there was poured down the water fountain as undrinkable. After a multi-faceted audio-visual presentation utlilizing covered wagons and even the nose of a train the exhibits circled the theatre giving one a chance to cross the Platte River in a covered wagon as it jolted with the crossing displayed on a screen in front of one. A treadmill and handcart gave one the opportunity to experience what it was like to pull one 16 hours a day for 2000 miles--too slow or fast and you’ll never make it, just right was a gruelling effort. Even after two years of retirement my hackles still raise at talk of the pony express. The coming of the railroad finally ended the overland migrations of nearly half a million settlers. Outside overlooking the Platte River Crossing Elk fed on the prairie grass.

An hour-long drive over more undulating highway got me to the town of Glendo which owes its existance to coal and the reservoire created by damming the Platte River and the State Park which surrounds it. The privately owned RV Park is on a side-hill west of the ‘lake’ and still under construction. The owner’s welcoming attitude was in complete contrast to my last experience. I’d have glady stayed longer but for the unrelenting coal train traffic and sirens plus the threat of an approaching fall storm barrelling up the Pacific West Coast. I did not relish riding out a storm on that exposed side-hill.

Driving along Interstate 25 past historic Fort Laramie in a modern automobile may not equate with the covered wagon train experience but the scenery is little changed since their day. Cheyenne, the capitol of Wyoming is located on the Colorado Border with government and the military its principal employers. In summer wild-west shoot-outs are still staged for the benefit of tourists. Nearby Fort Laramie was the site of the Matthew Shepard fatal gay-bashing. If one were to be seeking red-necks and trailer-park trash this would seem to be a good place to look. How can 5 people live in one 35-foot trailer? The trailing vines covering the mini-golf fairways are indicative of the overall decrepitude of the parks here but any port in a storm. I didn’t know people still used those continuous-roll hand towel systems any more.

Described as a fall storm the Pacific West-Coast is being deluged by 5 inches of rain followed by high winds and a deep freeze. With the threat of heavy rain and thunderstorms, winds gusting to 70 miles an hour, a cold snap and possible snow I deemed it prudent to stay put until the storm blew past. Over the past weekend I was beginning to wonder if I’d panicked; rain in any amount is an event around here but the thundershowers failed to materialize and when this morning dawned with the temperature at 54º F it gave me pause. However during the day the wind has picked up and the thermometer has been steadily dropping. Around 3 the first of two snow squalls hit followed by a period of sleet around supper time. Several gusts of wind have made it feel like someone was outside rocking my van. South of me at higher elevations the conditons are move severe so I feel vindicated.

Reminder to self, at 6062 feet it takes longer to boil spaghetti then at sea level.

Time for a Rant

“Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the toy.”

Since October Sixth I’ve been on the road and often with less than optimal or no Wi-Fi access so I’ve some catching up to do. I’ll begin with a few more observations.

From Stuart McLean on the Vinyl Cafe I learn that the lobster outlet in Robert L Standfield International Airport, (Halifax), has been using one-pound packages of frozen peas to keep their lobsters fresh since security concerns led to the banning of gel-packs from onboard hand-luggage.

Jean Auel's sixth book in the Earth Children Series The Land of Painted Caves comes out March 29, 2011. The last book in the series appeared in 2005.

Whether it be exposure to drugs and hormones in our food and environment or other causes boys are reaching puberty at an ever younger age and this may be endangering the future of the boy soprano voice and repetoire as boy's voices are maturing before the boys have the opportunity to learn sufficient musical skills to sing the parts. Choirs such as that at Saint John’s College Cambridge are becoming endangered entities. In Renaissance times the problem was solved by creating castrati choirs but no one is suggesting that as a solution today.

Re-useable grocery bags need to be washed or they may spread disease. Something that until the bags got to be disgusting never occurred to this bachelor.

Largest great white shark caught in a fishing weir off the New Brunswick coast.

Since Bell Canada’s Sympatico began rejected G-mail I have had to switch my outgoing E-mail Server to Yahoo. Just what kind of internet warfare is involved there I’m not sure but as someone sending mail on the road I have no option but to use an online server.

Do I attract rain? Not that I’d admit but I seem to end up in locations where abnormal amounts tend to occur. There was my trip a year ago last spring up the Pacific Coast Highway; my visit to Newfoundland this spring for the coldest, wettest seaon on record; and this fall the wonder of seeing water laying in the fields in the semi-arid Palliser Triangle. I now find myself in the near desert region of Wyoming/Colorado amid rain, thunder and winds. 

One more. Be it resolved that I will never again enter a campground that utilizes Wi-Fi-RV Internet Service. A more niggardly enterprise you never want to meet. They charge $5.95 AMD for 75 MB of bandwidth, for the record that barely allows me to download my E-mail after I’ve been off-line for a day’s driving.

Farming in Alberta

A large farm in Alberta is over 20 square miles or 12,800 acres, a small farm is 5 square miles; a quarter-section is 4-40 acre fields a standard farming unit here. A small combine has a 20-25-ft cutter bar and a large one costs more than most people will earn in their lifetimes. Small wonder most farms not owned by the fabulously wealthy or agribusiness operate on bank debt. Consequently it is not uncommon for farmers to supplement their farm income with work of some kind off the farm. Farming is a dedication, a way of life, not necessarily a means of making a living.

The stories of mental collapse, marriage break-down and suicide I’ve heard give a lie to the fantasy city folk have of faming being a laid-back, stress-free lifestyle. Even if drought prevents your crop from growing the weeds always seem to thrive and if the locust strike they’ll eat everything green in sight. The hazards inherent in using much of the machinery of modern farming are manifold, witness the eighty-year-old who spent 18 hours suspended upside-down in his combine when he attempted a repair. The amount of equipment needed to manage even a small-scale farm is astounding and the maintenance and repairs it requires call for a remarkable set of skills. The number of chemicals used on modern farms and the casualness with which they are handled makes me shake my head. Even the most innocuous are frought with perils. The amount of hydraulic fluids, transmission oils, and motor oils that get spilled and permanently polute the soil frightens me.

The road apples that were the by-product of a horse’s fuel consumption actually fertilized the soil, the black soot that spews out of a diesel tractor’s pipe is another matter and the operator sits in an air-conditioned cab lest the noise impair his hearing and dust get in his eyes. The chemicals sprayed on crops to fight weeds and insect pests render the soil incapable of self-fertilizing. The marketing of grains and seed crops by large-scale feed and grain elevators has become as capricious and unstable as the stock market. The owners of these operations owe their allegiance to the stockholders not the farmers who provide their product. The price offered the farmer often does not cover the cost of seeding, spraying, and harvesting that crop. There is an irony in the fact that pony oats--race horse oats--has greater value than that for human consumption.

Oil is king and the law is written so that land owners do not have control over the oil rights under the soil they farm. So-called land men negotiate lease arrangements with these landowners but in the end the law is stacked in favour of the oil barons. I wouldn’t want an oil well and the disruption it brings on my farm. The threat posed by sour gas wells adds an entirely extra dimension of risk to the equation. Even in the fertile Peace River District moisture or its lack can be a problem. Even the location of a lake can influence whether your field or one 10 miles down the road gets rain.

Cattle here are still grazed on Community Pasture with large herds managed by summer wranglers; in the fall they are brought in to be sorted and hauled in cattle trailers 50 to a two storey load. Coyotes and wolves pose dangers to young cattle along with any number of diseases and ailments. Even the angle of the sun at this northern latitude poses a risk of eye cancer.

Going to town here for anything not stocked in a local store means a 60 mile drive to Grand Prairie, the major market town for the entire district. Where you take your grain to market depends on where the rail lines were situated. Grain samples are tendered to various agencies to see how it tests and who will offer the best price and decisions have to be made, do I sell my grain now and pay off the bank or do I wait til later in hopes that the price will rise. Do I sell now or play the futures market. The price we pay for food does not reflect the cost of actually growing it and the various support programs offered by government are fraught with forms, paperwork, and deadlines. Should I buy crop insurance, drought insurance, hale insurance; will the pay-off or risk justify the cost.

Grains stored in large bins need to have an ideal moisture content or they will generate heat, spoil, and even spontaneously combust. Therefore combining may not commence until the field is sufficiently ripe and mature and the morning dew has dried. Accordingly operations rarely begin before noon and may continue well after midnight if the fields remain dry by floodlight. Picking up rocks, startling resting geese, or sleeping deer or elk are all harvesting hazards. Keeping combines and augers operational is a matter of constant diligence and maintenance and still breakdowns occur. What makes an oil filter worth $70 on a tractor that needs 3 hydraulic filters? And I thought $100 was a lot for my RV’s oil change. I was shocked to learn that even rotting wheat is processed for feed pellets.

Playing Catchup on the Road

Survived all those doctor appointments and a final weekend of eyedrops. By the time I finally got on the road at 5 AM Wednesday, September 8th I was more than eager to get off. My first surprise was the fact that the gas station on Oakville’s busiest highway closes nights. Traffic on 403, 401 and 400 was busy but moved at the limit. The headlights from the river of cars coming down 400 toward Toronto even at that hour was blinding. Just before dawn it started raining near Barrie. Made a stop at the Sudbury Travel Centre to pick their brains about highways west. Highway 69 gave way to 17 West. The stretch north of Lake Huron passes through the La Cloche Mountains with their white quartzite and pink granite. Stopped at a picnic site near Thessalon for lunch. Made Sault Ste Marie just as my display indicated an empty gas tank. The Finnish family who owned the Sault KOA retired and sold to a couple from Georgetown. Spent a quiet layover while I recovered.

On Friday the 10th I set out from the Sault for Thunder Bay. That stretch of highway traverses some of the most scenic vistas east of the Rockies. At the Algoma Trading Post, one of many such agglomerations along this highway, I stopped and picked up at last a pair of rubber sandals on an end of season table and a locally assembled dream catcher. I made the whimsical decision to acquire a dream catcher over a year ago but until this point all that I had seen bore the mark of having been Made in Taiwan. Were I a more ‘crafty’ person I should have assembled my own but dyed feathers, coloured beads, and plastic rings somehow detract from what should be a rustic look. Whether by mystic intervention or the power of suggestion I have had no nightmares since I hung it above my bed. Drove into Wawa to stop at Foodland for store baked and custom sliced raisin and cheese bread plus some coffee cream and had lunch while I was stopped. Highway construction became a major pain once I approached Thunder Bay and the stretch west of town saw the Trans Canada Highway reduced to gravel road. When I finally caught sight of the campground sign I was more than thankful to pull in.

That campsite near Kakabaka Falls had a healthy crop of Amanita Muscaria, Fly Agarics, mushrooms growing beside my RV. There was a crop of mushrooms at my last site as well but these were 6 inches across and the variety once favoured by hippies for the purpose of getting ‘high’. Spent another day resting while I looked out at thundershowers that passed in bands all day. Sunday morning I set out along the lonely stretch of highway headed west through granite and black spruce. Aside from a few rock cuts there is little to relieve the eye as the miles click by. Near Ignace I stopped at a quiet picnic rest stop where a young native couple were having lunch. The ‘decorations’ in the vault toilet were somewhat off-putting. As luck would have it I passed a beautiful rest area beside a small lake twenty minutes later. After passing through the middle of Dryden completed the drive to Kenora.

Drove into and out of town to visit Casey’s just west of Husky the Muskie. This meal did not live up to the memory of the last one I had there. Over-cooked pasta and soggy apple crisp are not a turn-on but at least I didn’t have to cook it or clean up after. Found the town campground on the shores of Lake of the Woods and settled in for the night after a walk about the park. I felt I deserved the rest.

Monday morning got gas--full service and expensive--before setting out for Brandon Manitoba. The stretch of highway to the border was repaved a year ago last spring. At the Manitoba Welcome Centre both the maps and the coffee are still free. The roads were another matter. From that point until I reached Brandon most of the highway was under construction. As soon as I resumed driving I hit a 14-km section of grooved pavement and even more later. The Winnipeg bypass is reduced to one lane in each direction and that at Portage La Prairie is closed entirely forcing one to drive through downtown. The rest area east of town was in such appalling condition I was moved to stop at the visitors centre I drove by in town and report it. Oakville Manitoba is just east of town as well. In the days before Postal Codes we handled quite a few pieces of their mail back home especially at Christmas. How can gasoline in Manitoba be 11¢ a litre cheaper than in Ontario?

After all that having reached my campground I drove another 10 miles through in-town construction rush hour traffic to get an oil change and sit in a waiting room. Sure hope synthetic oil is worth the price they charge for it. The rest of my two-day stay in Brandon involved quiet walks along the Assinoboine listening to the rattles of the Kingfishers by day and the call of a Great-Horned Owl by night along with the nightly fly-in of Canada Geese at dusk.

September 15th saw me heading west along the open prairie toward Regina on Highway ONE. The roads are straight with only the occasional gentle curve and flat save for almost imperceptible grades. It seems to take forever to reach the towering grain elevators and the only significant land-forms are the rare river valleys that cut a swarth across the landscape. When I finally reached Saskatoon Saskatchewan I discovered the address I had for Gordon Howe Campsite was that of city hall. The people at the grocery store I stopped at shortly after claimed no knowledge of the park only 5 miles distant so I had to find it on my own. It came complete with autographed photos of Mr. Elbow under glass. The heavily treed lots were nearby an elementary school and multiple sports stadia and parkland.

Before leaving Saskatoon got my water heater repaired and filled up my gas tank shaking my head at a sign down the highway that read 6¢ a litre cheaper. I counted myself fortunate there were no crosswinds during the next two days as I drove North-West across the prairies. At Lloydminster discovered activity in the Oil Sands has every possible living space including campgrounds filled to overloading. Learned in a town spanning the Saskatchewan/Alberta border businesses on the Saskatchewan side get to forgo provincial sales tax, the schools are Saskatchewan but the bars are all on the Ablerta side of town. Drove west of town to the hamlet of Vermillion and self-registered at the Provinical Park of the same name. The place had the water turned off but the 30 AMP power worked. The relocated Vermillion Train Station now acts as a cross country ski centre and nearby sits a forlorn caboose doing duty as the park library. Vermillion Lake is an impoundment water body.

After a quiet night without online access resumed driving making it past West Edmonton Mall without a second glance and on up Highway 43, the start of the Alaska Highway. After a stop at the Valleyview Visitor’s Centre drove into the farm to be greeted by Dozer, the Rottweiler.