When you leave the Banff and Jasper Parks driving west, you drop down out of the Rockies into the interior of British Columbia, which has several more mountain ranges and valleys, although none to match the grandeur of the Rockies. We stopped in Radium Hot Springs for lunch, but decided against taking the waters. We passed through small town after small town, rarely big enough to have a supermarket. It got warmer and drier and the ground got dusty, which was a big plus for Menominee, who loves to roll and squirm in the dust — so far, she says, Canadian dust is her favorite. The dryness — drought, actually — was also evident in forest fires, whose smoke we saw. For a whole day we drove north to escape smoke from fires burning down in Washington — the sun filtered to a dull, bloody, red disk, and twilight was a vivid peach.
As we drove south and west, crossing barren stretches, we aimed for Nelson, where mail from the US awaited at General Delivery. Nelson is a neat place, an authentic old town with Victorian buildings (it's where Steve Martin's film "Roxanne" was shot) that has survived its roots in mining and timbering and become a lively place to visit. It's located next to a narrow lake in the valley between two steeply wooded mountains — kind of like a Scottish loch or a Norwegian fjord — and its downtown area is alive with organic restaurants, street musicians, and a Tarot card reader. (Its spriit is the closest to Uptown Minneapolis we've seen since we left the Twin Cities.)
South of Lytton we stopped and indulged in the Hell's Gate tram ride ($11) down into the Thompson River canyon where the rock walls narrow and the river flows swiftly (twice the flow of Niagra Falls, they claim). The tram ride was fun, the salmon in the cafe was delicious, the gift shop enticed us to spend thirty dollars, and the walk across the suspension bridge was free. (Recommended, because it's a welcome relief from the tedium of driving across barren stretches).
In Minnesota, the spare water just sits in lakes, over ten thousand of them scattered everywhere. Here in BC, the water is confined by the mountainous terrain to run down into the valleys in streams and rivers into lakes. Some of the lakes are pretty big, great for recreation; some were created by hydro-electric dams, including the Bennett Dam west of Fort St. John, which I toured. So powerful are its ten generators that it alone supplies a quarter of BC's demand for electricity — and of course, it doesn't pollute. Yay hydro-electric!
Eventually, as we worked our way near Vancouver, dry and dusty gave way to a more pleasant, humid air, and we realized, as early explorers must have, that we were smelling the sweet breeze from the Pacific Ocean.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Canada — Banff National Park
The best way to approach the Rocky Mountains is from the east, where they appear on the horizon and capture your interest as they steadily rise and expand until they extend from as far as you can see to the left and right, their craggy peaks growing larger and larger until finally you're driving up into them and they rise all around you.
The mountain air was clean and dry. Enjoying good weather, with blue skies, little white clouds, and agreeable temperatures, we drove around and admired the mountains. These are the Rocky Mountains, same range as in Colorado, but the huge advantage here is that you're in narrow valleys within the mountain range, so you have mountains and peaks all around you, some forested, but many craggy with bare rock, and all of them rising way up.
Both Jasper and Banff Parks have wildlife, and all the tourists enjoy seeing bears, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, or caribou up close. The easiest way to spot them when driving around is to wait for a traffic jam: If a dozen cars are stopped in front of you, look around to see what they're looking at. We saw goats, sheep, and caribou that way.
The town of Banff is a ritzy place. Lots of hotels and lodges, fancy shops with designer clothing, and good restaurants. I seriously considered making a reservation at the Restaurant Beaujolais for their Table d'Hote Dinner (three courses at a fixed price of $69 Canadian, that's $65.50 US). You get to choose each course, and I had my eye on the Tasting of Pacific Salmon Three Ways for the first course, although the Cruisse de Grenouille Croquantes (Crispy Frog's Legs) sounded intriguing. For a second course, perhaps the Lobster Bisque en Croute, or the Alaskan Crab Crepe, or (if feeling very daring) the Alberta Wild Boar Civet (whatever that is), with black cherries, choux rouge and creamy polenta with sage butter. And for the third course, the Brome Lake Duck Breast and Leg Confit with maple-nut chutney, or maybe the Rack of Lamb Provencale au Jus. Oh, my head swam with the glory of it all!
As it happened, I was distracted by the restaurant at the top of the gondola lift, where their two-course dinner was a more affordable $28. I had their Curry Soup (delicious, almost as good as the Cambodian restaurant on University in St. Paul) and Beef Rendang (luscious -- the equal, in my estimation, of the Peninsula in Minneapolis).
It began with the gondola ride, a swift eight minutes up 2,500 feet, and at the top, the incredible 360 degree view of all the mountain peaks so close at hand. Then a relaxed meal at the restaurant, the ride down the mountain, and, to cap it off, a soak in the adjacent hot mineral spring pool. The water is 40 Canadian degrees, which is 104 US degrees. No one is swimming laps at that temperature — everyone is just relaxed and blissed out. This pool is a great leveler — no matter what country you're from or how much money you've got, each of us is just a human in a bathing suit enjoying the same water.
So, if you should find yourself in Banff one day and want to give yourself a treat, I recommend any of these establishments. Dinner, $69 or $28. Gondola ride, $25. Hot springs pool, $10. The mountain views — priceless.
Lake Louise is ritziest of all. The town consists almost exclusively of fancy lodges and hotels. The grand hotel is situated on the edge of the turquoise lake facing the incredible mountain and glacier. Its history dates back to the first railroads, when it was built as a resort to lure the wealthy to enjoy the scenery in style and comfort. After walking a bit on the trail around Lake Louise, I stopped in the hotel and had a bowl of soup and glass of beer in the pub ($20). It was delicious, but I thought it overpriced, so I stole several of their paper napkins. Next time I want to have dinner in the hotel's main dining room.
Jasper, by contrast, was much more family oriented, with lots of fast food joints, although, aftrer poking around a bit, I found tasty and innovative dinners at Dangerous Dave's and at Fiddle River, with entrees around $20.
In both parks we heard foreign languages spoken — French of course, since this is a bi-lingual country, but others too, such as German. We chatted with a woman from Holland, and saw tourists of color, or from the Orient, or wearing Islamic clothing. The beauty and splendor of these parks draw people from far, far away. (Have you been here yet?)
Next time I want to drive the Glacier Highway between Jasper and Lake Louise and tour the glaciers in the special glaciermobile. That is, if the glaciers are still around, next time I visit. (The Crowfoot Glacier, for example, has already lost one of its toes, and the other two are melting pretty fast.)
The mountain air was clean and dry. Enjoying good weather, with blue skies, little white clouds, and agreeable temperatures, we drove around and admired the mountains. These are the Rocky Mountains, same range as in Colorado, but the huge advantage here is that you're in narrow valleys within the mountain range, so you have mountains and peaks all around you, some forested, but many craggy with bare rock, and all of them rising way up.
Both Jasper and Banff Parks have wildlife, and all the tourists enjoy seeing bears, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, or caribou up close. The easiest way to spot them when driving around is to wait for a traffic jam: If a dozen cars are stopped in front of you, look around to see what they're looking at. We saw goats, sheep, and caribou that way.
The town of Banff is a ritzy place. Lots of hotels and lodges, fancy shops with designer clothing, and good restaurants. I seriously considered making a reservation at the Restaurant Beaujolais for their Table d'Hote Dinner (three courses at a fixed price of $69 Canadian, that's $65.50 US). You get to choose each course, and I had my eye on the Tasting of Pacific Salmon Three Ways for the first course, although the Cruisse de Grenouille Croquantes (Crispy Frog's Legs) sounded intriguing. For a second course, perhaps the Lobster Bisque en Croute, or the Alaskan Crab Crepe, or (if feeling very daring) the Alberta Wild Boar Civet (whatever that is), with black cherries, choux rouge and creamy polenta with sage butter. And for the third course, the Brome Lake Duck Breast and Leg Confit with maple-nut chutney, or maybe the Rack of Lamb Provencale au Jus. Oh, my head swam with the glory of it all!
As it happened, I was distracted by the restaurant at the top of the gondola lift, where their two-course dinner was a more affordable $28. I had their Curry Soup (delicious, almost as good as the Cambodian restaurant on University in St. Paul) and Beef Rendang (luscious -- the equal, in my estimation, of the Peninsula in Minneapolis).
It began with the gondola ride, a swift eight minutes up 2,500 feet, and at the top, the incredible 360 degree view of all the mountain peaks so close at hand. Then a relaxed meal at the restaurant, the ride down the mountain, and, to cap it off, a soak in the adjacent hot mineral spring pool. The water is 40 Canadian degrees, which is 104 US degrees. No one is swimming laps at that temperature — everyone is just relaxed and blissed out. This pool is a great leveler — no matter what country you're from or how much money you've got, each of us is just a human in a bathing suit enjoying the same water.
So, if you should find yourself in Banff one day and want to give yourself a treat, I recommend any of these establishments. Dinner, $69 or $28. Gondola ride, $25. Hot springs pool, $10. The mountain views — priceless.
Lake Louise is ritziest of all. The town consists almost exclusively of fancy lodges and hotels. The grand hotel is situated on the edge of the turquoise lake facing the incredible mountain and glacier. Its history dates back to the first railroads, when it was built as a resort to lure the wealthy to enjoy the scenery in style and comfort. After walking a bit on the trail around Lake Louise, I stopped in the hotel and had a bowl of soup and glass of beer in the pub ($20). It was delicious, but I thought it overpriced, so I stole several of their paper napkins. Next time I want to have dinner in the hotel's main dining room.
Jasper, by contrast, was much more family oriented, with lots of fast food joints, although, aftrer poking around a bit, I found tasty and innovative dinners at Dangerous Dave's and at Fiddle River, with entrees around $20.
In both parks we heard foreign languages spoken — French of course, since this is a bi-lingual country, but others too, such as German. We chatted with a woman from Holland, and saw tourists of color, or from the Orient, or wearing Islamic clothing. The beauty and splendor of these parks draw people from far, far away. (Have you been here yet?)
Next time I want to drive the Glacier Highway between Jasper and Lake Louise and tour the glaciers in the special glaciermobile. That is, if the glaciers are still around, next time I visit. (The Crowfoot Glacier, for example, has already lost one of its toes, and the other two are melting pretty fast.)
Friday, August 17, 2007
Menominee
Menominee, my cat and traveling companion on this adventure, is doing well. She has relaxed into the driving phases of our adventure, and now sleeps while I drive. She lives for the payoff at the end of the day, at the camp site, which she considers her domain, her territory to explore, her hunting ground. She has now caught a total of four small, furry, mouse-like critters, and is convinced she's a might hunter (and who am I to disagree?). We are thinking about trying a catch-and-release policy with her mice.
Jumping
Menominee soon noticed where I stored her food — in the cupboard along the ceiling over the couch — and began planning ways to reach it. The most direct means is for her to jump into the cupboard when the door is open, so I simply blocked it whenever it was open. But she also figured out that all the cupboards over the couch are connected, so she could jump into any open door and work her way over to her food.
One evening I accidentally left one of the cupboard doors open and sat on the couch watching a DVD on my laptop. Because the lights were off, I didn't notice her leap from the dining table four feet into the open cupboard, but I found out soon enough when, unable to secure a foothold in the cupboard, my ten-pound cat fell three feet onto my stomach. I told her I didn't appreciate that, but she offered no apologies, instead nursing a bruised ego because her magnificent plan had failed.
A few days later she made use of a five-inch diameter hole in the face of the same cupboard — where a loudspeaker had once been. She jumped from the kitchen sink up two feet, left two feet, and forward two feet (for a total jump of four feet) and somehow landed with her front half in that small hole, leaving her hind quarters dangling in mid-air, up near the ceiling. It was a sight to behold! With her front paws she got traction among the cabinet contents and hauled her rear half in. What a cat... Some cat!
The Bird Call Incident
To pass the time while driving the prairies, I tried (usually in vain) to find a radio station, then put on a CD. One day I put on a CD of bird calls, intended as instruction for bird watchers. To hear the CD clearly (from the speakers back in the RV) I had to turn the volume up pretty high, and began listening to the various songs of the cardinal. Soon Menominee was on the driver's seat back, touching my shoulder with her paw to get my attention, and then meowing in my ear. This is unusual behavior, some kind of communication, so I took her seriously and examined the situation. Loud bird calls. Maybe hurting her ears. Maybe she thinks they're coming from really, really big, scary birds? Huge birds right here, in the RV? Whatever. I put the bird-call CD away and Menominee calmed down.
Jumping
Menominee soon noticed where I stored her food — in the cupboard along the ceiling over the couch — and began planning ways to reach it. The most direct means is for her to jump into the cupboard when the door is open, so I simply blocked it whenever it was open. But she also figured out that all the cupboards over the couch are connected, so she could jump into any open door and work her way over to her food.
One evening I accidentally left one of the cupboard doors open and sat on the couch watching a DVD on my laptop. Because the lights were off, I didn't notice her leap from the dining table four feet into the open cupboard, but I found out soon enough when, unable to secure a foothold in the cupboard, my ten-pound cat fell three feet onto my stomach. I told her I didn't appreciate that, but she offered no apologies, instead nursing a bruised ego because her magnificent plan had failed.
A few days later she made use of a five-inch diameter hole in the face of the same cupboard — where a loudspeaker had once been. She jumped from the kitchen sink up two feet, left two feet, and forward two feet (for a total jump of four feet) and somehow landed with her front half in that small hole, leaving her hind quarters dangling in mid-air, up near the ceiling. It was a sight to behold! With her front paws she got traction among the cabinet contents and hauled her rear half in. What a cat... Some cat!
The Bird Call Incident
To pass the time while driving the prairies, I tried (usually in vain) to find a radio station, then put on a CD. One day I put on a CD of bird calls, intended as instruction for bird watchers. To hear the CD clearly (from the speakers back in the RV) I had to turn the volume up pretty high, and began listening to the various songs of the cardinal. Soon Menominee was on the driver's seat back, touching my shoulder with her paw to get my attention, and then meowing in my ear. This is unusual behavior, some kind of communication, so I took her seriously and examined the situation. Loud bird calls. Maybe hurting her ears. Maybe she thinks they're coming from really, really big, scary birds? Huge birds right here, in the RV? Whatever. I put the bird-call CD away and Menominee calmed down.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Canada — Jasper National Park
As we approached Jasper, the weather was beautiful (see photo of magnificent cloud). We found a campsite in the campground near the town of Jasper and settled in. The next day was totally overcast and cool, so we spent the day driving around the park. Unfortunately the mountains and lakes weren't very pretty in the monochromatic light -- all in shades of gray. We drove all the way up to the hot springs pool, but by the time we got there it was cold and windy, so we didn't go in. Later, in an Internet cafe, I checked the weather forecast, which was for cloudy, rainy, and even colder for the next five days. Uf da! Here we were in the most beautiful parks in Canada and the weather was absolutely lousy! Then a sudden realization: We have no schedule -- we can postpone the parks until later, when the weather is nice. So we bailed right out of Japer Park, drove east, and headed for lower elevations farther south, hoping it wouldn't be quite as cold there.
That took us back in Alberta, north of Montana, in cowboy country. The highway we were on is nicknamed "The Cowboy Trail." We saw men in cowboy hats, and on the news stand, there were magazines like "Canadian Cowboy" and (I am not making this up!) "Cowboys and Indians." There were lots of shops that sell saddles and other horse gear, but the one that caught my eye had a sign, "Chiropractor available -- walk-ins welcome." Yes, after a rodeo, a cowboy just might need some attending to.
Two days later, we were camped in Red Deer, midway between Edmonton and Calgary, when the cold wave bottomed out at freezing temperatures overnight. We came through OK, thanks to an RV park that provided electricity to our electric heater, which we left running all night. What a weather oddity -- freezing temperatures in August, in the same province where a heat wave had us sweating and panting a couple of weeks ago!
Next day we explored Red Deer, the first town of any size we'd visited in weeks. It was a joy to have a selection of large grocery stores, hardware stores, and an actual big chain bookstore -- Chapters, a Canadian imitator of Barnes & Noble, including the inevitable Starbucks. I tried to buy a copy of "Are We Rome?" but they didn't have it. The clerk who helped me (a guy nearing retirement, reminded me of MPR's Tom Keith, without a bow tie) was a history buff, and we chatted about the similarities between ancient Rome and modern U.S., and then got off onto Islam, which he thinks will conquer Europe by the end of the century. An interesting exchange!
We rather liked Red Deer, not because it has any jewel-like qualities, but because it's big enough (80,000) to have the amenities that smaller towns lack, yet small enough that people are relaxed and friendly.
That took us back in Alberta, north of Montana, in cowboy country. The highway we were on is nicknamed "The Cowboy Trail." We saw men in cowboy hats, and on the news stand, there were magazines like "Canadian Cowboy" and (I am not making this up!) "Cowboys and Indians." There were lots of shops that sell saddles and other horse gear, but the one that caught my eye had a sign, "Chiropractor available -- walk-ins welcome." Yes, after a rodeo, a cowboy just might need some attending to.
Two days later, we were camped in Red Deer, midway between Edmonton and Calgary, when the cold wave bottomed out at freezing temperatures overnight. We came through OK, thanks to an RV park that provided electricity to our electric heater, which we left running all night. What a weather oddity -- freezing temperatures in August, in the same province where a heat wave had us sweating and panting a couple of weeks ago!
Next day we explored Red Deer, the first town of any size we'd visited in weeks. It was a joy to have a selection of large grocery stores, hardware stores, and an actual big chain bookstore -- Chapters, a Canadian imitator of Barnes & Noble, including the inevitable Starbucks. I tried to buy a copy of "Are We Rome?" but they didn't have it. The clerk who helped me (a guy nearing retirement, reminded me of MPR's Tom Keith, without a bow tie) was a history buff, and we chatted about the similarities between ancient Rome and modern U.S., and then got off onto Islam, which he thinks will conquer Europe by the end of the century. An interesting exchange!
We rather liked Red Deer, not because it has any jewel-like qualities, but because it's big enough (80,000) to have the amenities that smaller towns lack, yet small enough that people are relaxed and friendly.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Canada — British Columbia
British Columbia, which is directly north of Washington state, is beautiful. Soon after we crossed the border, we noticed the difference: bigger hills than we'd seen in weeks — more like mountains. Terrain that makes use of the vertical dimension pleases the eye. Seeing a mountain range on the distant horizon evokes desire, snow-capped mountains (in August!) inspire wonder, and sheer walls rising into the sky are simply awesome. We were pleased to be in BC.
Our first stop was in Dawson Creek, an old crossroads that became the starting point for the Alaskan Highway in 1942, and thrives today as a vibrant community of 10,000. They have the first bookstore I'd seen in weeks, and I quickly went in, chatted with the proprietor, and bought a book (Jack London, "White Fang.") They also have the best restaurant I'd eaten in in weeks, the "Legendary White Spot*, Since 1928." (Recommended) Who would have suspected that they'd be serving sweet-potato fries with chipotle mayonnaise way up here? We excitedly enjoyed this interesting little hub, visiting the Alaskan Highway "Mile Zero" sign and taking a picture of Cruisemaster next to it. So progressive is this community that they provide free Wi-Fi Internet access, not only at the visitors center but also throughout downtown, and we indulged in lots of emailing and web surfing.
The Alaskan Highway enticed us to follow it for 43 miles north to Ft. St. John, which proved to be the northernmost point in our adventure, 56.3 degrees north latitude, according to the GPS. We felt the tug of the Yukon and Alaska, but that road is a long one and we decided to leave them to another adventure. We left the Alaskan Highway and began our journey south through beautiful scenery to Prince George, which bills itself as "Capital of Northern British Columbia" and advertises itself in a slick 38-page travel guide as a jewel of a place. (Thereby setting expectations so high that disappointment is likely.) The setting is nice — a river runs through it and pine-forested hills surround — but the stone proved to be fake. Oh, they have their Walmart and Home Depot, but downtown has decaying buildings, vacant storefronts, and street people. The Visitor Center gave us false information — the Cariboo is not actually open for lunch on Saturdays — and the Waddling Duck pub served pretty-good food for above-average prices with below-average service. (Although I suppose that people living up here could be delighted with any restaurant that isn't franchise fast-food.)
In the evening, we had an excellent chat with neighbors in the RV park, a couple from Vancouver who were quite happy to talk about BC, Vancouver, Jasper, and beer. It was our first extended conversation with native Canadians and we enjoyed it very much. They warned us that the road from Prince George to Jasper is a long drive through beautiful wilderness, and they were right..
*I later found out that the White Spot hasn't been in Dawson Creek since 1928 — it's a chain that started in Vancouver — but the food was still a treat.
Our first stop was in Dawson Creek, an old crossroads that became the starting point for the Alaskan Highway in 1942, and thrives today as a vibrant community of 10,000. They have the first bookstore I'd seen in weeks, and I quickly went in, chatted with the proprietor, and bought a book (Jack London, "White Fang.") They also have the best restaurant I'd eaten in in weeks, the "Legendary White Spot*, Since 1928." (Recommended) Who would have suspected that they'd be serving sweet-potato fries with chipotle mayonnaise way up here? We excitedly enjoyed this interesting little hub, visiting the Alaskan Highway "Mile Zero" sign and taking a picture of Cruisemaster next to it. So progressive is this community that they provide free Wi-Fi Internet access, not only at the visitors center but also throughout downtown, and we indulged in lots of emailing and web surfing.
The Alaskan Highway enticed us to follow it for 43 miles north to Ft. St. John, which proved to be the northernmost point in our adventure, 56.3 degrees north latitude, according to the GPS. We felt the tug of the Yukon and Alaska, but that road is a long one and we decided to leave them to another adventure. We left the Alaskan Highway and began our journey south through beautiful scenery to Prince George, which bills itself as "Capital of Northern British Columbia" and advertises itself in a slick 38-page travel guide as a jewel of a place. (Thereby setting expectations so high that disappointment is likely.) The setting is nice — a river runs through it and pine-forested hills surround — but the stone proved to be fake. Oh, they have their Walmart and Home Depot, but downtown has decaying buildings, vacant storefronts, and street people. The Visitor Center gave us false information — the Cariboo is not actually open for lunch on Saturdays — and the Waddling Duck pub served pretty-good food for above-average prices with below-average service. (Although I suppose that people living up here could be delighted with any restaurant that isn't franchise fast-food.)
In the evening, we had an excellent chat with neighbors in the RV park, a couple from Vancouver who were quite happy to talk about BC, Vancouver, Jasper, and beer. It was our first extended conversation with native Canadians and we enjoyed it very much. They warned us that the road from Prince George to Jasper is a long drive through beautiful wilderness, and they were right..
*I later found out that the White Spot hasn't been in Dawson Creek since 1928 — it's a chain that started in Vancouver — but the food was still a treat.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Canada — Alberta
Soon after we crossed into Alberta we came to Cold Lake, a boomtown with "help wanted" signs, new subdivisions, and high housing prices. It had its amenities — a bank, two supermarkets, a bookstore (although we couldn't find it) — and we enjoyed our overnight stay in the nearby Provincial Park campground. We continued westward and northward to Lac la Biche, where we stopped at the library to access the Internet, and met two happy, gregarious, and helpful library staff. They were soooo accommodating, trying my laptop on three different networks until I could check my email. (Thanks, Candice!) Later we spent the night in Blueberry Hill RV Park in Athabasca, although we couldn't find any blueberries (too early in the season for them — at the end of July!) .
Ever northward and westward, we came to Slave Lake, and, while looking for a camp site, we got stuck in some soft dirt. Soft, as in Very. Soft. Dirt. Stuck, as in up to the hubcaps on the right side. We couldn't go forward, couldn't go backward. Stuck, but good. What to do? It was four in the afternoon, the sun was hot, flies were buzzing, and there was no breeze. I walked around Cruisemaster, surveying the situation, when a Canadian came by and stopped. He offered to pull me out with his Jeep, but before we could hook up, another Canadian came by with a better idea: use his Caterpillar bulldozer. With great clanking sounds he brought the bulldozer around, hooked up Cruisemaster with a very heavy chain and slowly, slowly, pulled us out and we were freed. Whew! What an adventure! What kindly Canadians! To calm down, I needed some serious comfort food, so I bought and ate an entire 350 gram (3/4 pound) bag of chocolate chip cookies, washed down with two cans of beer. (Burp.)
From the place names in all the provinces we've driven through, we see that French explorers and traders once lived here, and that Native Americans (or First Nation, as they call them up here) have lived here for a long time.
Checking the GPS at Slave Lake, I found that we were just above 55 degrees north latitude, which is ten degrees (about 720 miles) north of Minneapolis, sixteen degrees (1150 miles) north of Washington DC, twenty-one degrees (1500 miles) north of Los Angeles.. More dramatically, this is the same latitude as Hudson Bay — if we had driven northeast from Minnesota, by the time we had gotten this far north, we'd be in the water at Hudson Bay. More dramatically yet, we are north of most of Canada's population, north of most of North America's population, north of most of the world's population. We're way far north, we are!
Even this far north, the terrain has lakes, trees, and crops (including canola). But we have the definite feeling that we are near the edge of civilization, as we pass through isolated hamlets, some with a gas station and maybe a cafe, few with a grocery or library. We see few cars on the road and notice that campgrounds have more oil-field workers than tourists. We are getting tired of the prairie and are ready for the scenery to come.
Ever northward and westward, we came to Slave Lake, and, while looking for a camp site, we got stuck in some soft dirt. Soft, as in Very. Soft. Dirt. Stuck, as in up to the hubcaps on the right side. We couldn't go forward, couldn't go backward. Stuck, but good. What to do? It was four in the afternoon, the sun was hot, flies were buzzing, and there was no breeze. I walked around Cruisemaster, surveying the situation, when a Canadian came by and stopped. He offered to pull me out with his Jeep, but before we could hook up, another Canadian came by with a better idea: use his Caterpillar bulldozer. With great clanking sounds he brought the bulldozer around, hooked up Cruisemaster with a very heavy chain and slowly, slowly, pulled us out and we were freed. Whew! What an adventure! What kindly Canadians! To calm down, I needed some serious comfort food, so I bought and ate an entire 350 gram (3/4 pound) bag of chocolate chip cookies, washed down with two cans of beer. (Burp.)
From the place names in all the provinces we've driven through, we see that French explorers and traders once lived here, and that Native Americans (or First Nation, as they call them up here) have lived here for a long time.
Checking the GPS at Slave Lake, I found that we were just above 55 degrees north latitude, which is ten degrees (about 720 miles) north of Minneapolis, sixteen degrees (1150 miles) north of Washington DC, twenty-one degrees (1500 miles) north of Los Angeles.. More dramatically, this is the same latitude as Hudson Bay — if we had driven northeast from Minnesota, by the time we had gotten this far north, we'd be in the water at Hudson Bay. More dramatically yet, we are north of most of Canada's population, north of most of North America's population, north of most of the world's population. We're way far north, we are!
Even this far north, the terrain has lakes, trees, and crops (including canola). But we have the definite feeling that we are near the edge of civilization, as we pass through isolated hamlets, some with a gas station and maybe a cafe, few with a grocery or library. We see few cars on the road and notice that campgrounds have more oil-field workers than tourists. We are getting tired of the prairie and are ready for the scenery to come.
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