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West Loop #1 Winnipeg: Premier Destination

  The place where we will be departing for the western loop of our Sea to Sea to Sea journey is pretty significant in the big picture. It’s where the Old Dawson Road ends at the banks of the Red River in St. Boniface, Winnipeg. For two of Manitoba’s premiers – its first and its latest – the Dawson Road plays a significant part in their rise to leadership. Let’s add a third premier to that list: Manitoba’s 8 th . Or should I say the 9 th ? (That will make sense soon.) I thought it would be great to have Wab Kinew, our current premier, join us at the Red for our departure ceremony. I wanted to invite him face to face but I don’t exactly run in his circles. I put it to the Lord and mentioned it to Patty. A few weeks later she told me that Premier Kinew was having a Christmas Open House at the Legislature the next day. Do you think there might be a chance to actually ...you know... ? With a little bit of hope we drove to the Leg on that bitter December day last year. We...
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#36 Winnipeg, MB: Half Way The-ere, Oo-oo, Drivin' On a Prayer

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In our twelve years living in Mongolia, we developed a saying that comforted us on many road trips: Every journey eventually ends.   The only time I remember hitchhiking in Mongolia, a small Russian jeep stopped to pick me up.  I counted the grown men as they were disgorged from the back seat.  3 .. 4 .. 5 .. 6 .. 7!!  And now I was offered the chance to become part of this 3-D jigsaw puzzle as they continued down the road.  It was winter and any extra space was filled with bulky clothes.  You'd think that despite the heater not working, there would be enough body heat to keep us warm.  All I remember was how cold my feet were and I couldn't move them 1 millimeter to try to get circulation going.  But, as I kept repeating to myself, every journey eventually ends. Our five-and-a-half week loop around Eastern Canada has been so much more comfortable than that.  The roads were rough at times but nothing like Mongolia.  It has been very rich...
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#35 Raith, ON: Time Travel for the Chronologically Challenged

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I just assumed that all the Atlantic provinces were miniscule compared to their western siblings.  One of the geographical surprises I had on this journey was how big the province of Newfoundland and Labrador is.  To drive right across it from Cape Spear to the western border with Quebec is the same distance as from Raith, Ontario to Yoho National Park in BC.  2130 kilometers.  That second drive involves five provinces and three time zones. It starts in the Eastern Time Zone, then passes all the way through Central and ends at the west end of Mountain. Not far out of Raith I made a rather abrupt impulse stop where the highway crosses into the Central Time Zone - the last of many time changes of this journey.  As we stretched our legs, we noticed a plaque honoring a certain Sir Sandford Fleming - one of the brightest knives in the shed.  That might be a mixed metaphor but then, what Fleming gave to Canada (and the world) was also quite an eclectic mix. ...
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#34 Thunder Bay, ON: The Terry of Many Miracles

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Yesterday we took a long walk from our campground to pay homage to another Terry from Transcona, Winnipeg.  Maybe we should have driven, but that didn't feel right.  We have been driving west now, from St. John's Newfoundland, for what has felt like a very long time.  This is a very big country.  But we've been d riving .    I can't even imagine running it.  On only one good leg.  The Terry Fox monument that we were walking to was located as far west as he had made it from St. John's before his cancer flared up again and ended the Marathon of Hope. The day before he had to quit, Terry would have run past the small town of Pearl.  On the other side of the Trans-Canada from Pearl is a large amethyst deposit.  Before Patty and I arrived at our campground we took a little prospecting venture to the Blue Points Amethyst Mine.  I envisioned finding one of those huge geodes with lustrous purple crystals like you see for sale at a gem shop....
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#33 Matheson, ON: Pink is the New Black

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On arriving in Waskaganish on James Bay, a resident asked me if I had noticed the wildfire-burned areas on the way in.  The way she asked it made me wonder if the trauma of having fires so close to destroying her community was still fresh.  I had noticed.  It would have been hard to miss.  I noticed another thing.  What would have been charred black ugliness two years ago was now vibrantly pink with fireweed.  I was amazed at how quickly destruction had changed to beauty.  It seemed an obvious parable of redemption. As we drove west from there, Patty typed 'boat launch' into Google for a possible boondocking site near Matheson, Ontario.  That led us to a pretty park by the water.  It came complete with clean, open washrooms and picnic tables.  Best thing of all? No 'Thou shalt not camp!' signs.  There were a couple of other interesting signs though.  There was a 'No Parking - Fire Route' sign at one end.  That confused me ...
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#32 Just Out of Sight of Stag Island, NU: A Nunavut Breeze

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Our visit to Canada's largest territory on Sunday was almost as brief as my visit to Sanirajak a few years ago.  I was on my way to Igloolik for work and had to make an airport stop in the community which used to be known as Hall Beach.  Sounds kind of tropical right?  It's not.  It's a cold, exposed strip of gravel without a single Tiki bar.   Sanirajak has two claims to fame.  The first is it's local cuisine. I noticed the proud sign on the airport wall describing the preparation of igunak .  Aged walrus meat is buried in the gravel beach in July.  By Christmas time it has attained its full pungency and flavour, at which time it is exhumed and consumed.  The Sanirajak equivalent of a turkey.  While wandering around the airport (it didn't take long), I enjoyed seeing the mothers wearing their amoutuit .  With big hoods like kangaroo pouches ready to hold a sleepy baby.  I love these celebrations of Inuit culture. Saniraja...
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#31 Waskaganish, QC: An Unforgettable Meeting

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I had some preconceived ideas of what a group of Cree believers might look like in a small town on the Arctic Ocean at the end of a long dusty road.  A little huddle of the faithful trying to keep their flickering light from being snuffed out by the winds of darkness.  We arrived last Saturday afternoon and I asked the first locaI I ran into if he knew anything about the churches there in Waskaganish.  "Just go down the hill and you'll see the big tent they've set up for a week-long Jamboree." We arrived at the tent at 7:30 sharp like we were told, but I forgot that we had changed time zones to Cree Standard Time.  No problem.  I saw a guy with a Winnipeg Jets jacket come in so I had time to find out the name of a fellow fan.  Kelly.  But he wasn't just another fan.  He had actually played for the Jets.  I looked a little closer at the logo.  Ahh. Waskaganish Jets.  No matter.  I had a new friend. I once attended a church servi...
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