Journey Mercies

This morning we got off the overnight ferry from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland - the longest of five on our journey so far.  We had set up a little encampment at the very front of the ferry where we'd have a great view of the sunrise.  I found out that our ferry-neighbors were from Wisconsin.  I told them about our journey, and how we were trying to stay tight to the edge of Canada to surround it with prayer.  I described myself as someone who avoids big highways if he can find a slow windy road through little villages.  Immediately the Wisconsin wife pointed at her husband.  It seems he was a kindred spirit.  I got the sense that she wasn't quite as thrilled as he was about the road less traveled by. I had characteristically chosen a route off the Trans-Canada that would get us from the Newfoundland ferry terminal to Cape Spear the 'scenic' way.  But I almost regretted it.  Not very far in it turned to gravel - washboardy gravel that seemed li...

"Sago gatchi, ska na ka?"  I was trying to express my greetings to my sister Ivy back in Winnipeg, but she didn't seem to be getting it.  A little louder:  "Sago gatchi, ska na ka?" She still couldn't make it out.  Surely the issue couldn't have been my Bell cellular carrier.  After all, I was calling from Baddeck on Cape Breton Island - Canadian home of the inventor of the telephone.  Okay, duh!  I suddenly figured out the problem.  Ivy didn't know a word of Mohawk! Even as a kid in Scotland, Alexander Graham Bell was interested in how sound was produced.  As a sixteen-year-old he trained his Skye Terrier, Trouve, to be able to growl continuously. While Trouve was obediently growling, young Alexander would reach into its mouth and manipulate its lips and vocal cords to make the sounds "Ow ah oo gamama."  With his dog trained, Bell was able to convince his freens that he had a talking terrier who, on cue, would recite what sounded like ...

I'm going to try to connect three different stories but I'm afraid the transitions might be as awkward as Matthew felt when he was given a hug by Anne.  Not familiar with that reference?  Then I better begin with that story. Story #1 My favorite scene from the Megan Follows version of Anne of Green Gables took place in the barn.  Anne had just found the puffed-sleeve dress that Matthew had bought for her and placed on her bed.  Matthew was the lifelong bachelor who, along with his spinster sister, had adopted Anne.  Anne put the dress on and rushed to the barn to thank Matthew, but all she could do was stare at him with misty eyes.  Finally he said, "Don't you like it?"  "Like it?  It's more exquisite than any dress I could ever imagine!  You are a man of impeccable taste Matthew."  I'm sure Matthew wanted to give her a hug but kissed Anne on the forehead instead, explaining that he didn't want to get her dress dirty.  That's when A...

  I was pleasantly surprised to see this sign near Fort Francis, Ontario.  We were barely a day out of Winnipeg and we were already over the hump.  It was all downhill from here.  But did they measure the 1660 feet from high or low tide?  We'd be hitting the Atlantic at the Bay of Fundy with the world's highest tides.  A fifty foot drop between ebb and flow could make quite a difference on our angle of descent.  I didn't bother doing the math.  What I was thinking about was all the gas I would save as I slipped the transmission into neutral and prepared to coast.   Waiting. Waiting. Not rolling. I gave up and popped it back into drive.  As we approached Fundy National Park in New Brunswick a couple of weeks later, we hit the biggest hills of our journey.  Going downhill I would put the RV into second to save on the brakes.  I'm guessing a couple of times my engine revved a little too high and then suddenly I realized my ov...

We've been trying to sample local cuisine as we move across Canada.  Our last meal in Quebec was poutine with an unrequested layer of peas on top.  Quebecois invented poutine so I guess they can decide how it should be served.  As we crossed into Nouveau Brunswick, French continued as the spoken language but there was a subtle change in culture.   Following the St. John River we soon found an establishment that served up local fare.  Popeye's Louisiana Kitchen.  I sense some raised eyebrows from my readership so I feel I have to defend myself.  French settlers started settling the Maritimes in the 1600's.    They called their home Acadia - paradise - and started happily turning marshland into farmland.  All was quite idyllic until the British took control.  The Brits felt like they couldn't trust the Acadians because that's the way England felt towards France in some far-off European conflict.  The solution?  Deport t...

I was having an inner struggle to end an otherwise fantastic first day in Quebec.  As we traveled through the eastern townships I was loving the rustic old barns and stone houses. I was doing just fine figuring out the French signs.  I had followed the debate a few years ago when the province forbade English on signage but I was good with that.  I understood Quebec's desire to protect their language and culture.  But now, as we approached Parc National Frontenac, I was starting to get a little irritated. There are a lot of English-speaking people across Canada, including me, who pay taxes for the National Parks.  They are a Canadian thing - not a Quebec thing.  Surely they could give us directions on how to get there in both languages.  And was it my imagination or did the guy at the desk seem a little grumpy at being forced to answer my questions in his halting English?  Now I was starting to see scowls on everyone's faces.  And where was th...

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong, Under the shade of a coolabah tree. And he sang as he watched and waited 'til his billy boiled "You'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me!" As we waltzed our Matilda through Perth (Ontario that is - not Australia) towards Ottawa, I was thinking a bit about National Anthems.  Australia's, officially, is God Save the _____ (insert King Or Queen depending on the gender of the current monarch.)  Unofficially it's Waltzing Matilda.  If you listen to it, you might want to have an Aussie-to-English dictionary handy. I had been wondering, if Canada were to have an unofficial anthem, what it might be.  There wasn't an obvious that's-it-for- sure song that jumped out at me but I settled on Land of the Silver Birch as being suitable. Land of the Silver birch, home of the beaver, Where still the mighty moose wanders at will; Blue lake and rocky shore, I will return once more, Boom de de boom de de boom boom boom. The song...

It can be a little intimidating for a couple of country bumpkins like us to head into a mosh pit like Toronto.  But we've been called to pray around Canada and a lot of Canadians live in Toronto.  Conventional wisdom would say that if you DO have to pray through Toronto in a lumbering old motorhome, stay on the freeways and let Google Maps guide you through.  But we've noticed that Google and the Holy Spirit don't always choose the same route. The first time we went to visit Bill and Donna was to ask them an important question.  Are Patty and I meant to get married?  We knew they heard directly from God and wanted to get the inside scoop.  Bill's answer after an hour of listening for guidance?  "I didn't hear anything.  All I felt was praise."  From that I learned a lesson that has stayed with me my whole life and into our present journey:  God never promised to show us the end. He's not a fortune teller. He only promised to lead us. Now...

In checking out an assisted living place, my mom's biggest concern was the dim hallways.  With her macular degeneration she needs all the light she can get. I told her that I had the perfect solution.  I'd buy her a Milwaukee lantern and she'd be able to see just fine - walking down the halls looking like Laura Secord only without the cow. Actually I've heard na ysayers claim the cow was apocryphal anyway - added in by later embellishers because it made for a better story. And I just read that Laura Secord made most of her journey in broad daylight.  I guess they'd claim Laura didn't need a lantern either.  Next thing they'll be denying the obvious fact that she owned a chocolate company. But all my misgivings were put to rest when we entered the time warp.  I'm sure the 'experts' would say there is no such thing as time travel, but they'd probably change their minds if they had suddenly been transported back to June 21,1813.  As we came off ...

I judge the quality of a garage sale by whether any cool old stuff is for sale.  By that standard I had hit the jackpot!  Imagine finding a book called Appletons' Canadian Guide Book published in 1891 complete with a bunch of fragile maps inserted in a pocket in the back.  In 1891 cars hadn't even been invented, and this book only covered southern Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes because half of western Canada hadn't even joined Confederation yet!!  Sorry. I'm geeking out. I brought that little red book along on this journey in the chance I might read about something old that was still relevant today.  On page 19, there was an entry for Queenston Heights: " On the summit of the Heights stands the monument which has been erected in memory of the favorite hero of Canadians.  It was erected by the voluntary contributions of the militia and Indian warriors of Canada.  It is a massive stone structure 190 ft. in height, 19 feet higher than Nelson's Column i...

  Dave's ancestors would have used crushed ochre in bear fat to paint their message on a rock, and it would have lasted hundreds of years.  Dave used a 'permanent' marker to write his message on our RV banner.  Judging by the fading notes written by others just a week ago, I'd give this one a month or two.  But the 'Word' Dave wrote of and the blessing behind it will last forever.   Dave had come and talked to me after the church service in Blind River.  He told me of his work - of how he is battling logging companies who are assaulting his ancestral territories.  The First Nation has no problem with trees being harvested.  But it's when these companies spray the forest with a herbicide that kills all the 'undesirable' trees like birch and maple that something in Dave rises up.  It's the 'caretaker / gardener' directive that Gitche Manitou has placed in the DNA of his people and which was first given to Adam.  Dave has taken the bat...

  For one night last week, Patty and I were the most southern two people in Canada.  If you go to Pelee Island on Google Earth and look for the most southern bend in the road - that's where we camped.  We were further south than Rome, further south than Boston or Chicago and further south than Yontocket, California.  It was even further south than the lowest part of Canada shown on my map.  I hope nobody looked down on us for it.

When Covid hit, there were a lot of comparisons to the Spanish Flu of a hundred years earlier.  I bought myself a Corona because it seemed appropriate and then settled in to try to do my part, like the rest of you, to get through another pandemic. When the current U.S. president started expressing his desire to annex Canada and erase the 'artificial line' that stood in his way, we were reminded of similar rhetoric from 200 years ago.  That time it was Thomas Jefferson who said: "The acquisition of Canada this year ... will be a mere matter of marching." In the War of 1812, Canadians rose to stand on guard.  Many gave their lives, like Tecumseh and Isaac Brock, to defend our land.  This time around, Patty and I felt that the way we could  best stand on guard was more comparable to Laura Secord's.  Take a journey with a message.   My meditation as we traveled across the Niagara Escarpment where the last battle was waged came from Psalm 33.  God...

Before you read this post, go to Youtube and listen to Huron Carole by Tom Jackson.  It's got to be by him.  Then you'll appreciate what I heard as the sun set on Lake Huron this Sunday evening.  We were told that there at Providence Bay on Manitoulin Island you could see the most beautiful sunsets anywhere in Ontario and it definitely added to the beauty of the song. I'm sure Tom wasn't aware of a lot of beauty in life when he dropped out of school at age 14 and lived on the streets of Winnipeg.  But somewhere on his journey, he heard the Christmas story and became enraptured.  I'm sure when he first heard the words of Huron Carole, it must have put words to the longings stirring in the soul of a young indigenous man. O children of the forest free,  O sons of Manitou, The Holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you. Come kneel before the radiant Boy who brings you beauty, peace and joy. Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born.

On my journey bucket list was to see Treasure Island, an inhabited island on Mindemoya Lake, one of four large lakes on Manitoulin Island, the largest freshwater island in the world and resting in Lake Huron, second largest of the Great Lakes on our continent, Turtle Island which is surrounded by three of the four oceans on Planet Earth, third space island from our star.

Bev Dyck approached me after our departure ceremony in Winnipeg where we had listened to some lines of The Song of Hiawatha.  "The only bit of that poem that I still remember from school days is ... let me think ... By the shores ss s ?"  I had to help her out: By the shores of Gitchi Gumee / By the shining Big-Sea-Water; The drive along the north shore of Gitche Gumee - Lake Superior - is said to be one of the prettiest in the world.  We got one glimpse between two islands where the calm water and the pale blue sky were exactly the same color.  You couldn't see any horizon.  Slightly different than the day that Gordon Lightfoot sang about in The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald: The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down / Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee. / The lake it is said, never gives up her dead / When the skies of November turn gloomy. The Chippewa - otherwise known as Ojibway or as they call themselves, Anishinaabeg - are truly the people of t...

Winnipeg's most famous ambassador was born near White River but orphaned early in life.  When a certain Harry Colebourn, from Winnipeg and on his way to Europe to fight in World War I, stopped at the White River train station, he fell in love with the little black bear cub.  Harry made an impulse buy and handed the hunter a 20 dollar bill.  He named his new mascot Winnie after his hometown. Now, a bear cub isn't really that useful on the front lines, so before heading over the channel to fight, Harry donated Winnie to the London Zoo.  And that's where a young English boy named Christopher Robin fell in love with him.  Winnie the Pooh became the lead character in a series of books by Christopher's father, A.A. Milne, and then hit the big screen with Disney. When we arrived in White River a few days ago, and met Winnie face to face, I realized he hadn't forgotten the city that gave him his name. It was a pleasant surprise to see he was a Bombers fan.  And bet...

The most interesting job I've ever had was in Rainy River.  I was wondering what God had for me when I got a call from my friend Nancy.  Do you want to work as a commercial fisherman with my two uncles on Lake of the Woods?  I took the bait.   It was just the kind of thing I loved.  Out on shining water every day, the anticipation of seeing what our nets might bring up, cleaning and icing our catch beside our island cabin.  Nancy and I made it a point of cooking up and sampling every kind of fish our nets dragged up - from miniature blood-sucking eels (not awesome) to now-rare sturgeon (awesome). There was a big surprise in our net after the biggest storm of the fall.  There were very few fish but then, side by side in the net, were the biggest walleye and the biggest northern pike we had caught all year.  This might be a fishing tale, but I'd guess at 15 and 25 lbs respectively.  Not quite a Roseau River sturgeon but pretty cool nonethe...

You know he's a good friend when you call him for the first time in a year and when you ask, "Can you make me an ox?" he doesn't laugh at you over the phone.  He doesn't even ask why in the world you might desire a beast of burden. Nika was quiet for a minute and then thoughtfully responded, "Well there's Clementine.  She's a heifer, bottle-fed from a baby, and good around people.  I bet she could learn to pull a cart."   That was five years ago.  Patty and I had decided to go on a long distance Red River Cart journey from Winnipeg to St. Paul, MN.  Calling Nika was the very first step I took in getting the oxcart rolling.  My first financial investment was a bag of carrots that I offered to Clementine when the two of us were finally introduced.  It turned out that Clementine made the career choice of becoming a full-time mother.  I applauded her for it, but now I had to find another engine.  So I hired a steer named Zik from a farm...

A few people tagged along on the first leg of the journey from The Forks to Dominion City. We were hungry and I had promised a special lunch, but first I wanted to tell three stories from local lore. Countess of Dufferin In 1877, t ogether with her husband, the Governor General of Canada, the Countess of Dufferin was visiting Manitoba for diplomatic reasons. I hope she brought her rail-working clothes because she was roped into pounding in the first spike on the first railway in Western Canada. When finished, it would connect Winnipeg with St. Paul, MN. Having done the deed , the Countess and the Governor General boarded a paddlewheeler heading south up the Red River on their way home. En route they passed another paddlewheeler heading north and carrying the Countess of Dufferin. Confused? This particular C of D was a locomotive named after the lady in the other boat. They waved at each other (actually I’m not sure about that) never to see each other again. T he locomotive ...

I’ve been asked several times, “Has a journey like yours been done before?” I’m not actually sure. I’m reading a book right now called The All-Red Route . It’s the story of how an English writer named Wilby and an American mechanic named Haney attempted to drive all the way from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It was called the ‘Red Route’ because Commonwealth countries were always shown in red on maps and this was the first attempt to make the crossing entirely within Canada. They starting by dipping the back wheels of their brand new 1912 Reo (built in St. Catherines) into the ocean at Halifax. I know they ended up dipping their front wheels into the Pacific at Vancouver but in between I think they had to train their car for a ways because there just weren’t any roads. But I still haven’t finished the book. It would really be amazing to be the first person to dip the wheels of their vehicle in Lake Erie in the south, the Atlantic Ocean out east, and then the Arctic and the Pacif...

It felt to me like we were standing on holy ground. Probably the same feeling I’d get if I was to visit the location where Moses saw the burning bush and where the tribes of Israel gathered around the base of Mt. Sinai to feel God descending with shaking and thunder and smoke. If I’ve put together the clues correctly, something very similar seems to have happened at the Forks. On the Mountains of the Prairie, On the great Red Pipe-Stone Quarry, Gitche Manito, the mighty, He the Master of Life, descending, On the red craigs of the quarry, Called the tribes of men together. From his footprints flowed a river, Leaped into the light of morning, O’er the precipice plunging downward Gleamed like Ishkoodah, the comet. And the Spirit, stooping earthward, With his finger on the meadow Traced a winding pathway for it, Saying to it, “Run in this way!” An indication that something special had happened here first came to light when an Anishinaabe elder approached Sid Kroker, the head archaeolog...