Category: Travel

Campsite # 19 Thunderbird Campground, Campbell River, BC

Thunderbird Campground is on a narrow strip of land between Campbell River 11 and the Discovery Passage. It is, as commercial campgrounds always are, congested, with a variety of trailer makes and models parked in two rows. Our campsite backed onto the Campbell River 11, a tributary to the larger Campbell River just metres downstream. The campground has the usual assortment of commercial accoutrements – a laundry, extra showers, a tuck shop – but no activities in nature. It doesn’t matter because just outside the gates is a portion of the Campbell River Greenway Loop, a 28 km walking trail around the city that meanders down by Discovery Passage.

We were here to get necessary items for our home in Wuikinuxv, so this campsite offered just what we needed at this point – a pretty spot to rest at the end of the day.

We had a small green space behind the trailer where OrangePekoe, Granville, and we humans could relax in the evening. We were there in the mornings too, before we went out on our errands. We lucked in with this specific campsite.

Campsite # 20 Broughton Strait Municipal Campsite, Port McNeill, BC

This municipal campsite, at the edge of Port McNeill, was as congested as a commercial site. This is what we have come to expect of municipal campsites. We were tucked into a corner at the end of a row of campers. It was just right for us, because all four of us, the two humans, Granville the dog and OrangePekoe the cat, like a bit of space around us. This one was quite acceptable. Both animals made themselves comfortable.

Granville:

OrangePekoe:

Because we were in Port McNeill, we could go to a restaurant for an occasional meal. We did go out for a fish&chip supper one evening. The proximity of restaurants, grocery and hardware stores, and laundrettes is one of the advantages of a municipal campground.

Sixteen campgrounds in six weeks. We found something delightful about each one of them. Maybe that’s one reason why we remained smiling through it all.

British Columbia’s iconic landscapes, the ones that feature in advertisements and textbooks, are views of mountains, perhaps with water adjacent to the mountains. We discovered during our drive through this province that there are several quite distinct landscapes. Our route would take us from Kootenay through the South Central Interior to the Lower Mainland.

We hoped to see some of the province from the car windows, but we were driving along the Trans-Canada, which has a limited lateral exposure to the landscape. Essentially, when you drive along these fast roads, you are driving along a tunnel. Views to the sides might be extensive if there is an open space, but usually the route is walled with vegetation, rocks formations, rock-cuts, or a combination of those.

Lucky me, sitting on the passenger side of the vehicle provided an opportunity to glimpse some land features as we drove past. Generally I got to see the rivers as we zipped over the bridges. Unfortunately, the barricades blocked most of the view, but we all are familiar with this and can fill in the blanks in the canvas.

Power lines – that is something both driver and passenger could enjoy. That graceful swoop from one mountain top to another, sometimes glistening, in whole or part with reflected light, is an electrifying sight for Nigel. He likes to compare the different tower designs, and ponder the work required to set them in location. I like the pattern and design they create in the landscape.

Occasionally the road ran along one side of a lake, and the railway that always seems to be there ran along the other side. We were thrilled to see one of the regular train tunnels, a little arched window, leading into the depths of the mountain. In fairy tales, entrances to mountains lead to kingdoms of gold and other riches. In a sense this is the same. The train regularly enters and emerges from the mountains carrying a cargo that generates riches.

From time to time our view opened wide. At Shuswap Lake the view across the water was accented with a very long freight train waiting for its time to proceed along the tracks. Those few years living near the tracks when I was young still influence my appreciation for trains in scenes.

I like the contrast between nature and industry. Maybe I was influenced in my youth by the paintings of L.S.Lowry, the English artist, who painted industrial England at the beginning of the 1900s. We all try to avoid looking at the evidence of our industry and business, but we do enjoy the life-style that is the result.

Two examples are a cottage overlooking a lake,

and a manicured golf course.

From the Shuswap Lake to Hope is a region of incredible geographic diversity ranging from mountains to dry plateau. The economic activities were varied as well, from orchards to vineyards to ranching. We rounded a corner , and were astonished – what a surprise to see a drastic change in landscape. Farms nestled in a wide, flat valley. As a bonus the view included a familiar sight – a long train crossing the landscape.

We had now entered the Thompson-Nicola Regional District, named for the two rivers that traverse the area. The Thompson River is named in honour of David Thompson, the man who surveyed large swathes of western Canada. The Nicola River is named in honour of Chief Nicola, who was an important First Nation leader during the fur trade in British Columbia.

The Thompson River is banked with glacial silt and grit. This unstable ground often shifts, and sheets of sediment slide down into the river. The beige banks weren’t shifting when we were there, but we did see some evidence of landslides.

Surrounding the Thompson River is the Thompson Plateau. This is characterised by rolling grasslands and scrub bush. It’s one of the driest areas in British Columbia, and looking at the scenery outside the car window, this was believable. It looked arid, with stunted trees and beige grasses. To our eyes, it looked familiar, a type of landscape with which we often saw when we lived in the Kalahari Desert.

Our vicarious dance partner, the landscape, suddenly changed timbre. We topped a hill and a whole new vista lay before us. It’s still the Thompson Plateau, but in another costume. This more curvaceous, hilly country connects to the Fraser Plateau, another highland area in the central interior of British Columbia. Our route visibly wound its way up and around the mountains; a long and winding road ahead.

The steep inclines on these mountain roads meant there was danger of brakes failing and vehicles running out of control. Brakes fail on hills, not often, but often enough that there are precautions in place for drivers, especially large transport truck drivers. There were runaway truck ramps at frequent intervals along the road. These are sliproads at the side of the main road, angled for easy access, often filled with sand or gravel to help slow the truck, and often with an uphill gradient which provides gravity assistance with stopping the truck. We saw deep tracks in several of the runaway ramps but this one looked almost unruffled.

For the most part we had a well maintained, dual carriageway (divided highway) through the mountains. Contemporary highways tend to be wide and fairly even in gradient. This makes the driving easier on the driver and the vehicle, not to mention the passenger. In our vehicle, it meant discussion about road construction and commentary about how it would have been laid out. This is because Nigel worked on some major road construction projects during his surveying career. That was an added bonus. For most vehicles, at minimum, it ensures a wide view of the gorgeous scenery.

Somewhere along the route, we crossed the water divide. The creeks and streams now flowed into the mighty Fraser River. The Fraser River is the longest river in British Columbia. This wide, murky river may well take the claim for opening up the province to settlers – loggers, salmon fishers, farming, and the siren call of gold. Unfortunately, most of the route was set back from the river, and rightly so, since there is always a chance that rivers will overrun their banks and damage a road. We caught glimpses of this iconic British Columbia river over the road-side barricades.

As it meets the Pacific Ocean, the Fraser River opens into an extremely wide delta. As with all deltas, the soil, carried along and then deposited by the river, is rich in nutrients. Deltas are flat and damp. Perfect for farms, especially market gardening farms which grow those hungry plants like tomatoes, peppers, lettuces, cucumbers, and broccoli. The 50 km wide Fraser River delta did not disappoint. Prosperous looking farmland was everywhere. In the background, a beautiful backdrop – the mountains of the Pacific Coast Ranges.

Farmland is premium land. There is a limited amount of arable, flat land in British Columbia. Unfortunately, Vancouver and its neighbouring cities, are creating an urban monolith that is nibbling away at the very land that is necessary to feed all of us.

Initially the subdivisions are small holdings, 5-acres or so of land that possibly is a hobby farm with horses for pleasure and competition.

When suburbs are built on farm land, that land is lost to agriculture. This is the way of contemporary society. We are increasingly urban. We feel fortunate to have toured through the mountains and farmlands of more rural British Columbia en route to its largest urban area.

Beautiful BC – a slogan for this province for decades. It is a fitting slogan, because the province is indeed beautiful. Stunningly so. It’s an overwhelming visual experience, quite frankly. There is no pause to blink and relax; it’s one visual sensation after another. Exhausting, positively exhausting. Gloriously exhausting.

We camped for a couple of nights at Canyon Hot Springs Resort, a commercial campground in Albert Canyon, in the midst of the Selkirk Mountains. The taller of these mountains, seen from the campground, is possibly Mount Albert, from which the canyon takes its name. These mountaintops, older than the Rockies, filled every direction, looking imposingly graceful, as mountains do. It was a prelude of the scenery that was to continue through British Columbia.

You will recall that the long, silvery ribbons of the railway tracks tie Canada into a cohesive whole. During our travels, we noticed how the railway provides a crucial link across Canada. Tracks crisscross our country, providing a thousands-of-kilometres-long pattern for commerce and industry. A double-track skirted the edge of our campground; what a location to drive a train.

We heard trains all day and all night. It was sounds from my childhood, when we lived near the tracks. We went down to the level crossing at the end of the campground to watch trains, as one does.

It’s quite easy to sit for an hour or more, waiting for trains. It was almost edge-of-the-seat exciting because there were up to ten trains an hour, and some of them were very long. I’ve lost my knack for counting cars. Unfortunately the cabooses seem to have disappeared so the pleasure of waving to the caboose attendant has been erased from train watching.

Decades ago this location, Albert Canyon, was a designated train stop, a pause before the climb to Kicking Horse Pass. The rapidly flowing Albert Creek, is spanned by a basic train bridge, which is essentially some long railway ties propping up the railway track, and held in place with steel girders. A narrow vehicle bridge adjacent to the tracks gave us allowance to cross the river safely.

Safety is relative. The vehicle bridge gave the impression of being rickety, made out of some cross beams with a metal mesh on top, and barricades about as high as a street curb. In fact, it was very secure and level. Not a wobble. Not a wiggle. The mesh was a tad slippery, which required careful stepping.

I walked carefully because that raging water rushed headlong under the bridges, centimetres from my feet, en route to its junction with the Illecillewaet River. Raging, of course, because it drops from about 1700 metres height to 700 metres height, a difference of 1 kilometre, in just over 3 kilometres. A 33% gradient! I’d be raging too if I tumbled that distance.

I didn’t dare look down when I walked across the bridge. My eyes were on the horizon. Vertigo on a barracade-less bridge is not ever a desired experience.

The water speeding along close to the banks emphasised that the drop in elevation continued beyond this portion of the Albert Canyon. Granville, who likes to splash in water, had to be restrained. Once she stepped up to her knees into the glacier-fed water she seemed to realise there was sense in exercising caution around this fast-flowing, very cold creek.

This wide spot in Albert Canyon is an oasis in the midst of rough, near vertical igneous and metamorphic mountains. As befits an oasis, the campground had a lush forest on one side.

As we walked along the groomed path, all I could think about was Emily Carr, the British Columbia artist, contemporary of the Group of Seven, who painted Northwest Coast scenes. I know she did not paint in this part of British Columbia, but the woods here mirror the woods on the coast. Wood Interior (1932) is an example of one of her famous paintings that could have been painted in this place.

We came to the banks of Albert Creek from a different angle. The water was dull turquoise, still showing its glacial origins, still moving quickly, and still mesmerising to watch.

And we still had to restrain Granville from leaping in for a paddle. That current would have swept her away, eventually taking her to the Columbia River and then to the Pacific Ocean. We preferred to take her with us in the camping trailer, but it was tempting…

For my part, I gazed up and up, craning my neck and leaning back a bit, drinking in the magnificence, absorbing it, admiring it, enjoying it, overwhelmed by it. The Canadian Cordillera, the western conglomerate of mountain ranges, plateaus, and valleys, is worthy of its wide-spread exaltation. The British Columbia mountains and their side-features, the secondary characteristics like these that lend depth and gloss to the mountains, are spectacular. They are a rich and satisfying illustration of the licence plate motto “Beautiful British Columbia”.

Kicking Horse Pass spans the border between Alberta and British Columbia. Scouted and surveyed by the Palliser Expedition in 1858-1859. At that time the Yellowhead Pass was used to travel over the Rocky Mountains. The objective of the expedition and survey was to explore and map western Canada, to find areas for settlement and to counter American expansion. They were also charged with finding a less arduous and shorter route between the, then, Northwest Territory and British Columbia. This pass was built in the 1880s, initially as a conduit for the Canadian Pacific Railway, and a link from British Columbia to Canada. Because of the promise of this link, British Columbia joined Confederation in 1871.

We chose this route, in part, because of the historic significance of Kicking Horse Pass. The steep canyon walls, and the close proximity of the mountains required a unique engineering feat – spiral tunnels. These are tunnels that swirl and follow contour lines, but inside the mountains, so the train drives into an arch at one elevation and appears some time later at an arch at another elevation, seeming to cross over itself. We see this technique used in road construction these days, although the dramatic effect of crossing over our own vehicle does not happen with cars.

https://parks.canada.ca/pn-np/bc/yoho/culture/kickinghorse/visit/spirale-spiral

There is a Parks Canada Historic Site with places to pull off the road on this route. The Spiral Tunnel viewing site was jam packed with vehicles. It’s a popular sightseeing spot. The Spiral Tunnels were, and continue to be, a feat of engineering. The train tunnels were constructed over a couple of years, from 1907-1909. Typically, 25-30 trains move through the tunnels every day. That’s a lot of train traffic, indicating that for the past hundred years these spiral tunnels have been important for moving products east and west across the country. Much as these sights interest us, because it was raining and the place was crowded, we decided to make a specific trip to see the tunnels in action, so to speak, on a later date.

Just over the Kicking Horse Pass overpass, called Park Bridge, there is a combined Canada and British Columbia site. This is located approximately where a kicking horse incident happened, and for which the pass is named. Apparently some pack horses in the Palliser expedition had fallen into the river. A surveyor let his horse graze while he was helping retrieve the pack horses When he returned to his own horse, it kicked out, catching him in the chest. From then, reference was made to the Kicking Horse River. The pass was given the same name.

There is a very faded descriptive information board at the site. It leads the eye towards the high walls of the canyon, and the mountains surrounding the pass. More than a hundred and fifty years ago the terrain was the same, but transportation was more basic.

Despite the rain, we took Granville for a walk around the perimeter of the park. We needed to move around because all of us were getting stiff from sitting in the car for several hours. In this place, we were reminded about much we appreciated travelling around in a vehicle, sheltered from the rain, in relative comfort, and not worrying about ornery horses having a hizzy moment. That saunter took us to the banks of the Kicking Horse River, where we replayed in our imagination that event a century and a half ago when an annoyed horse gave the river its name.

Standing in the rain, looking back up the Kicking Horse Canyon, we were gob-smacked at the height, and grace, of Park Bridge over which we had just travelled. In the distance it’s the 400 metre long colossus standing 90 metres upright and flamboyant over the canyon floor. Our vehicle and trailer in the parking lot, look minuscule in the midst of the gigantic grandeur of these Rocky Mountains.

A recitation of Ozymandias, the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley, seemed in order. At some point in the future it could be the subject of a similarly themed poem. For now, we stood in admiration of the phenomenal structures that surveyors, engineers, and construction teams can build.

Building the railway through this rather inhospitable geography was an unrivalled engineering feat. It was mimicked with the construction of the Trans Canada, which basically, then and now, follows the railway route, except without the extended spiral tunnels.

The road was narrow and steep, so a plan was made to widen Highway 1 from Kamloops to Banff. This has been a continuing project for many years. The engineering details and accomplishments are best explained by the experts:

https://www.tranbc.ca/2021/07/21/four-laning-bc-highway-1-your-questions-answered

We were glad to cruise along the widened Trans Canada. There was evidence along the route of some of the solutions to the challenges of constructing this road to contemporary standards, including safety for humans and animals. First, of course, to smooth the route, the road had to be cut through the mountains. Some of the rock cuts were as tall as high-rise apartments.

Fences were constructed at unusual angles to catch falling rocks, or leaping elk or mountain goats.

Delightfully wide ess-curves helped the drivers almost glide down the mountain slope. Gone are the days of roller-coaster highways, and the resultant nausea for many passengers.

A series of snowsheds added visual variety along the route. Snow sheds are concrete tunnels that might curve a bit, but they do not spiral. Their main purpose is avalanche control. They cover the sections of highway prone to avalanches. By defraying the snow, they help keep the highway open during the winter. This is an important consideration in this snowy, mountainous region.

The slope, approximately 5%, extended for several kilometres before it levelled out. Many times a vehicle, especially a truck, could get going too fast, so efficient, effective brakes were required. Good drivers regularly check their brake and at regular intervals spaces were provided for that task.

Almost always there was a transport truck parked in the brake check area, just cooling the brakes before continuing down the incline. We were impressed at the obvious participation in this safety measure. Of course, drivers are safety conscious, and do not want to experience a run-away truck on these steep hills.

Our route was a fairly steady downhill drive after Kicking Horse Pass. We had followed an historic route as much as possible. The modern upgrades to the highway infrastructure did substantially modify the original route, making it a much more amenable drive. The dramatic mountain-scape was spectacular, as spectacular as it would have been a century and a half ago when Palliser’s expedition first explored the route through the Rocky Mountains. We were glad to have a contemporary road, and not have to hack our way through the wilderness like the early expeditions and surveyors did. Smooth roads is modernisation that we all appreciate.

We travelled quickly through Alberta. We had hoped to make a couple of stops visiting family and friends, but our various schedules did not match, so we completed this portion of the trip at a fast clip.

It was just fine, because initially we found what seemed a bleak and barren land. There was grassland, with dismally dry, rather unkempt fields dominating the landscape.

Colours were bleached by the sun, faded so they barely tinted the fields. It was a beige land. A similarly colourless train was barely discernible from the grasses.

In the midst of this dull landscape there were highlights. Farm ponds were everywhere, and they seemed bigger, surrounded with greener grasses than the ones seen previously. This was a lovely sight because Alberta is a cattle-ranching province, and these grasslands are where the bovine herds are raised.

Water is essential for healthy cows. If it is as easily available as the many farm ponds seems to indicate, then these grasslands are swaying with riches. The herds we saw were chunky and sleek, looking very healthy. Eating grasses and drinking cool water as they ambled around the ranch is what has given Alberta beef its fine reputation.

Winter preparations were underway to ensure the continuing production of fine beef. Stacks of hay bales as high as an apartment building waited for transportation to the barns. This would supplement the commercial food provided for the cattle when snow prevented them from grazing in the fields.

We played a driving game – ‘spot the highlight’ in the landscape. Sometimes it was horses, not cows, that roamed the fields. That fit with another Alberta stereotype, that every ranch kept a herd of horses for work and pleasure.

Well tended farm buildings were surrounded by a ring of trees. Very often they were classic tin construction, like tin nissen huts, and squat silos. A little bit different, but certainly indicative of care, attention, and wealth.

That care and attention was necessary to ensure that another Alberta agriculture product, wheat, got what it needed to grow in these dry grasslands. Many fields had pivot irrigation systems, working on regulators to ensure equitable and timely distribution of water.

We paused at Tillebrook Provincial Park, about a third of the way across the province. It had been a long day of driving. We turned off the road into a small oasis of green. The trees and grass of Tillebrook provided a welcome relief from the beige and muted green fields.

For one night we revelled in the cool prettiness of Tillebrook. Then it was back to the straight road and the beige landscape. That straight road was a blessing for the driver – wide and smooth, easy to drive the long distances we were travelling on these two days.

We continued our ‘spot the highlight’ game. What did we see? Colourful, comic relief. A brightly decorated train sat on the track at the edge of a pale yellow wheat field.

Some oil rigs in a field indicated Alberta’s most well-known product – oil and gas. It seems that the province has a unique geological base that has provided vast oil and gas reserves. The province sits on the Western Canadian Sedimentary Basin which contains deposits of this ‘liquid gold’. Sedimentary basins are made from layers of mud at the edges and under the water of oceans, lakes and rivers. Millions of years ago, plants grew abundantly. When they died, they fell into the mud, decomposed, and under pressure become oil and gas. This is one main source of Alberta’s wealth.

The province has bountiful solar panel farms, harvesting energy from the sun with the ease that it harvests oil, gas, grain and cattle. Oil and gas reserves fill the province’s geological cellar, but there is foresight and application of solutions to using other sources for energy production on the main landscape – wind and solar power were evident on the platform.

At frequent intervals, we noticed banks of powerlines. The industries need high voltage electricity, and the province ensures that it is transported efficiently across the province. Nigel, who had spent several years and hundreds of kilometres surveying powerlines similar to these, enjoyed spotting them and reminiscing about his survey days.

Then, quite suddenly we were noticing relief. There were undulations, and rolling hills in the landscape. Colours were deepening, becoming more prominent.

Within kilometres there was noticeable tall vegetation. The almost treeless landscape transformed into large groves of trees. We reckoned we’d see mountains soon.

First, though, we had to get around Calgary. Thankfully, a bypass has been built around the city. Unaccustomed as we are to driving in a large city, we breathed a sigh of relief. Bypasses have wide views, so when we rounded a bend at the north-west corner of Calgary, we caught sight of the Rocky Mountains. They were in the distance, but they filled the horizon. What a sight!

As we got closer, the details in the mountains came into sharp relief. The bare rocky sides of the mountains seemed soul-less, rocky chunks of Earth thrown up in a fit of pique. Nearly 80 million years ago the tectonic plates collided. The pressure and heat caused the Earth’s crust to buckle, bend and fold, pushing up the Rocky Mountains. The glaciers of the ice age sculpted the peaks and valleys creating the marred and craggy features with which we are familiar.

All the geological and glacial grumbling created the iconic Canadian Rocky Mountains that we saw as we drove along this portion of the Trans-Canada Highway.

Wildlife is a concern – for conservation and for driving safety. Special wildlife overpasses have been built over the highway. This gives the animals safe passage, and helps reduce the number of animal-vehicle collisions. We give the overpasses the credit for keeping the animals invisible to us as we drove along this wild-life corridor. Not a single sighting of an animal.

We did spot plenty of geographic sights. Glaciers carved these mountains. The glacial melt-water continuously refills large lakes and raging rivers, sometimes green, sometimes aqua, and sometimes nearly indigo blue. It all contributes to an idyllic vista of the Rockies.

Somehow, in the midst of it all, industry finds a way to be in the scene. The Lafarge Cement Factory sits on Lac des Arcs, at Exshaw. It has been there since 1906. Apparently there have been some disputes about the environmental impact of the company, but there it sits, providing work, and doing its best to meet the required standards of good stewardship.

As happens with mountains, the weather changed as we climbed up through the Kicking Horse Pass. Thankfully, it was summer, so the precipitation was rain. Rain, although problematic, is much easier to deal with than snow. You might hydroplane, if you are careless, but you don’t get stuck in a snowbank or lose the road in a blizzard.

Kicking Horse Pass crosses the Continental Divide, meaning that the water on the west side of the pass flows towards the Pacific Ocean, and the water on the east side of the pass flows towards Hudson Bay or the Gulf of Mexico. The highest point is at 1 627 metres, which is not so very high, considering that many of the Canadian Rocky points are 2 500 to 3 500 metres high.

The Pass was given this unusual name because one of the members of the exploratory expedition was kicked by his horse in this area. There is a commemorative plaque in the large rest area just after the long bridge spanning the Kicking Horse River.

That’s our well travelled vehicle and trailer in the parking lot.

From there it was a downhill road through the remainder of the pass towards British Columbia. Less stressful on the vehicle, but still stressful on the driver.

Alberta was a province of contrasts from dry grasslands to wet mountain roads, from oil rigs to solar farms, from cows and horses to cement factories. At a roadside stop, we picked a Wild Rose, the official flower of Alberta. It kept us company across the province, symbolically including us in the wild beauty of Alberta.

The road to a friend always creates a light-some, positive atmosphere in the vehicle. A smile hovered around serious-driver Nigel’s mouth. He, and I, were enjoying the scenery – the brightly coloured fields of grain, the magnificently expansive sky, the view to a horizon kilometres away – which, possibly because we were driving to visit a friend from Botswana days, brought to mind aspects of the wide landscapes of areas of southern Africa. It’s not the same, of course not, but there are similarities.

We were almost relaxed driving on the smooth, wide Trans-Canada highway. Swathes of Canada to the left of us, much more of Canada to the right, and kilometres of Canada in front. It’s a huge country. By driving across it, we were increasingly aware of the size of Canada. It’s the second largest country in the world. We were very glad to have a wide road, even if from time to time construction reduced it to a single lane.

We turned off the Trans-Canada onto Highway 35, a secondary highway oriented north-south. This would take us to our destination. The road passed through a small town, Qu’Appelle. We were amused with the residual advertisement on the Red & White store wall. The faded paint from days of past glory seems an apt metaphor in what seems to be a declining town.

Just a few kilometres further north we were in for a visual surprise. The now familiar flat fields

suddenly broke open into a wide coulee, a dry ravine created by meltwater carving into the land after the last Ice Age, about 14 000 years ago.

It’s a round-edged ravine, breathtaking because it was unexpected, and dramatic because of its width and depth. This landscape has texture, a linen tablecloth lying draped over the Prairies.

At the u-shaped floor of the ravine we crossed the Qu’Appelle River, surprisingly narrow at this bridge. Nearby, the river opens into lakes, remnants of remaining indentations from the pressure of the glaciers during the Ice Age, and Glacial Lake Regina, the post glacial-era lake that filled much of the watershed.

The effect of that glaciation and meltwater can be found in geological formations from Lake Diefenbaker and Last Mountain Lake in the west to the Manitoba border, 430 kilometres to the east, where the Qu’appelle River joins the Assiniboine River.

Climbing up out of the valley, the effect left by glacial erosion and deposition was noticeable as rippled, undulating hills. Cows love this type of landscape, because they can lie down and watch the world go by, or tuck themselves into one of the hollows to avoid the wind.

A quick by-pass, and a double take. Those were bison grazing in that field just up the road from the cows. Bison join cows in the Bovidae family, and can cross breed. We speculated whether these handsome creatures were being farmed and fed to breed with the cows down the road. Sort of like the boys school and the girls school at opposite ends of the town – never the twain shall meet except at those opportune moments like the debs ball, or in Bovidae parlance, the cattle pen.

Chris was just up the road from the bovine alley. We turned into his long, tree-lined driveway with a sense of relief; turning into a quiet place, ready for some rest and relaxation with a friend from ages ago.

Chris gave us a tour of the domestic yard. His backyard revealed a colourful quilt of grain fields. This farmer grows canola, wheat, and chickpeas. As Chris explained, it is best to grow a variety of grains and pulses because the unpredictable weather might damage one crop reducing its yield, but not necessarily all of the crops. Hectares of variety lay before us.

Water for the house comes from a pond in the yard. This is field-drained water. Wildlife like fox, deer, and raccoons, share the water with the house. There is a basic filter at the house ensuring that the water is useable for washing, but not for drinking. Apparently many farms have a similar system, which is why there are watering ponds dotted around the farms.

Tour over, the two friends did what Africans do – they had a braai. That entailed preparing some meat, watching the coals get hot, talking a lot, having a beer or three, and talking some more. Chris’s patio was the perfect spot for all this activity.

After some time, the coals were ready, and the chicken was put on the braai. I think peri-peri or an equivalent was used to flavour the chicken. Hot and spicy for the men. Milder flavouring for me.

Chris, a former restaurateur, had prepared a hearty meal for us. We required a brief post dinner perambulation around the side yard. The various outhouses and their previous functions were explained, and examined. Like on most farms, there was storage space, a hen house, a wood shed, a work shop, and a couple of buildings that might have been used for tending babies or sickly animals.

Granville, being the scamp that she is, roamed and roved through the yard, on guard against the squirrels and raccoons. Just like at home. She was in her element.

By tomorrow, the men had settled into the way of friends. They worked on Chris’ vehicle, sorting out a brake issue while gabbing about people and places and plans.

That left me to go out taking snapshots of the yard sculptures, those intriguing hunks of metal and machinery that so often decorate a farm yard. They had a use once, and with refurbishment could have a use again.

For now, like grotesque gargoyles, they stand around the yard slowly disintegrating as they succumb to the effects of weathering and neglect.

The area surrounding Chris’ home was an enticing mystery for humans and for Granville. She was out bouncing through the fields, finding animal paths to follow, and getting lost in the tall grains. Accustomed to running free in the yard in Smiths’ Cove, it was a welcome relief, I’m sure, from car confinement and leash restraint.

For us, this expanse of space, the rich colours, the vibrant sky, and the lovely reunion with a long-time friend gave us exactly the rest and relaxation we needed at this point. It also provided us with a down-right impressive and positive perspective on Saskatchewan. This is an often overlooked gem of a province.

A busy couple of days in Winnipeg, visiting relatives living and not, and then we were on the road again. We are driving against a deadline, which means less time dawdling and being tourists than otherwise would be the case. However, despite the deadline, we have a plan to pause to visit family and friends en route. Plus, a few tourist activities from time to time.

We have re-ascertained that we dislike cities, generally. It seems that cities are all similar – busy roads, many vehicles, noise and lights. This road scene in Winnipeg could be any city in Canada.

The countryside, on the other hand tends to be where the distinctive landscapes of Canada come to the fore. It’s where we have seen and experienced the Canadian Shield up close. It was now time for the iconic Prairie Provinces. We started this theme in Manitoba, and with much of Manitoba to cover before Saskatchewan, we watched the Prairie landscape unfold before our eyes.

The Prairies are scathingly described as flat and boring. Not at all. There is terrain – acres of undulating fields,

mogul-like hills pop up regularly,

there are rivers, valleys, lakes, and escarpments.

Through all of it, at least in the summer, swathes of bright greens, yellow, and gold reveal the crops growing in the fields.

Main crops in the Prairies are wheat (for which the region once was nicknamed the “Breadbasket of the World”), maize, chickpeas, lentils, and canola (a Canadian hybrid grain invention). Basically, with those thousands of acres of grains, Canada justifiably is a recognised global grain grower.

The area is a vast grassland, a geographic plain. The flat grassland continues for kilometres, unbroken except by the occasional grove of trees and array of farm building in the distance. It gave us a far horizon, and a huge, upturned bowl of blue sky.

It was far from dull. Plenty of colour saturated the landscape. Vehicles kicked up dust as they sped along farm roads.

There was, of course, a variety of pick-up trucks on the road, this being farm land where half-ton pick-ups are required vehicles. Those were for the farmers’ general transportation. The grains and the farm supplies and equipment, all move in much larger tractor-trailer trucks (aka articulated lorries in some countries). We encountered a variety of these huge trucks on the road. They also kick up dust on the gravel and dirt roads and truck stops.

Many of the tractors (or cabs) pulled double trailers, which were huge vehicles, both in length and in height. Some of these were open trailers.

Some were closed containers. It didn’t matter what their configuration, they were massive. They were between 4-5 metres high, and each trailer was about 15 metres or a bit more in length.

If they weren’t double-trailer transport trucks, they were exceptionally long flatbed trailers carrying enormous cargoes, like five rolls of coiled plastic piping. When they were passing, they just went on forever. And passing them took ages as well. We were grateful for the dual-lane divided highway.

Moving all the grain from farm to storage silos to the market or the export-ports (Thunder Bay or Vancouver) requires even more robust infrastructure. The railway line, which joined our country from the Atlantic to the Pacific in 1885, has played a crucial role in the development of western Canada.

The transcontinental railway was one reason why the western provinces joined Confederation. It meant European settlers could easily get themselves west, where there were farming opportunities. It also meant that the products grown and manufactured in the land-locked middle of Canada could easily get to markets in the east or overseas.

When the two main modes of transportation are juxtaposed, it is understandable why the railway remains important. A kilometre-long train can carry an abundance of grain, and other agricultural products. A double-trailer truck can get to locations away from the train tracks, for example it can carry grain from the farm to the grain elevator.

The classic grain elevator beside the railway is an iconic Canadian image. Considered by some to be relics, they remain in active use in many towns in the Prairies.

Many times, it seems that larger, metal elevators have superseded the older models. Likely with these new variants, it is more easy to control the internal humidity and to keep the pests and vermin at bay.

The elevators, the trains, and the trucks all support the agricultural industry in the Prairies. There is more to agriculture than the grain. Several times, from the highway, we spotted farm equipment for sale in huge yards.

Sometimes we saw farmers using the equipment in fields, or mowing the road verge. Apparently the farmer can mow the verge, and can keep the hay. This is a marvellous idea – the province gets a mowed and clear road verge, and the farmer gets acres more of hay for the price of the diesel to mow it. Win-win.

We saw hay bales from the mowing beside the road. We also saw large straw buildings made of square bales stacked like lego blocks into a square shape. Sometimes there were several straw cuboids close together.

Hay is needed for the other side of Saskatchewan agriculture. Cattle need plenty of hay for fodder during the long, cold winter months in this province. They cannot eat outside, so the farmers must ensure a sufficient supply to keep the animals fed and ready for market.

That being said, grain dominates the farming. It is so important to the Saskatchewan economy that it is featured on the provincial flag.

The gold lower portion of the flag represents the grain fields. Three sheaves of wheat are displayed on the coat of arms, emphasising the importance of that grain to the province’s agriculture. The green on the flag represents the forest in the northern part of the province, however, I found reflections of the flag in the complementary fields of green and gold or green and cream all across the province.

When a road separated the fields, it seemed even more the epitome of Saskatchewan – hectares of fields of grain, straight lines to a far horizon, a flat expanse of landscape capped with a wide blue sky. Everything to appreciate and enjoy about Canada’s rectangular-cut gem.

Elmwood Cemetery, along the Red River, is one of Winnipeg’s oldest and largest cemeteries. It is a non-denominational cemetery. Included in the cemetery is a small section historically designated for military graves. This is marked with a Royal Canadian Legion flag.

We visited Elmwood Cemetery to pay respects to my maternal grandfather who is buried in the military section. He served in the Canadian Expeditionary Forces during World War I, serving with the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI). He remained in active service with the PPCLI after the war, stationed in Ottawa, Toronto and Winnipeg. He died in Winnipeg in 1922.

Grandfather Ager, a Warrant Officer 2, is in good company, lying beside a Lieutenant Colonel, and a decorated Staff Sergeant. The fourth grave here is a Captain. All distinguished soldiers in this group. The simple granite slab headstones are used for military graves which have no permanent marker. My grandfather had a ground marker many years ago, but that was replaced with the slab marker more than a decade ago. This was an initiative of the Last Post Fund which, although not part of Veterans Affairs, administers the Funeral and Burial Program for that government department.

Elmwood Cemetery is a beautiful park-like setting. Mature trees, mainly oak, create shade for the visitors. The Red River flowing adjacent to the cemetery adds an eternal dimension to the location. Although I was there with specific purpose, a walk around this cemetery was a peaceful interlude in our busy trip west. It was quiet and restful in Elmwood. I can understand how, in the Victorian and Edwardian eras, it was popular to take a picnic to the cemetery and enjoy the ambience while visiting the relatives who had moved to another realm.

Manitoba. It was a mini-visit. The province is large, but most of its area is north-south. We were traversing the shorter, east-west portion of the province.

Our drive started out with the, now expected, trees and rocks.

Very quickly it became a divided highway (dual carriageway is the term used in some countries). This was a pleasure after several days of seemingly narrow, single-lane in each direction roads. A divided highway is much more relaxing to drive and to navigate.

Even the road verge widened to provide a glimpse of the extensive spaces we were hoping to find in the Prairies.

We planned a couple of stops to our campground north-east of Winnipeg.

Our friends in Marathon had highly recommended a small restaurant in Hadashville. They said it looked rather nondescript, but we were not to be fooled. The food was excellent by their reckoning. The eclectic menu is a micro-snapshot of Canadian cuisine. Sophie’s restaurant and deli serves Ukrainian and Indian dishes. I had a Punjabi omelette. It also serves Mexican-style dishes. Nigel had a burrito breakfast. A customer can order standard fare such as burgers, pizza, poutine, and chow mein. That certainly covers a cross-section of Canadian culture. We purchased samosas for a meal later in the day.

The main tourist attraction on the Manitoba list was a stop at the longitudinal centre of Canada. A geographer and a surveyor like this sort of marker. We are always measuring the earth’s surface, or examining maps which requires the application of latitude and longitude.

The mid-point of Canada is at 96 degrees 48 minutes 35 seconds West of the Prime Meridian (zero degrees, in Greenwich, England).

This is the half-way spot between the most easterly point (Cape Spear, Newfoundland – 52 degrees 37 minutes W) and most westerly point (Boundary Peak 187 on the Yukon/Alaska border – 141 degrees 0 minutes 7.128 seconds W) in Canada.

There are official markers on the side of Highway 1, which is the Trans-Canada Highway through Manitoba.

The longitudinal centre of Canada is also marked with an extremely large billboard. We, of course, had to pose for the requisite tourist selfie in front of the billboard.

We insisted that OrangePekoe also post. She was a tad less willing, but acquiesced.

Granville was somewhat disinterested in the importance of the site. She, too, acquiesced to our photo shenanigans.

There is more to Manitoba than multi-cultural restaurants and significant sites. There is a reason why the Prairies are often portrayed with stereotypes. Once considered a “breadbasket of the world”, Canada remains a major contributor to global food security with respect to wheat and pulses. Our role as a main contributor to grain production was evident in the kilometres of wheat fields we passed on our drive through Manitoba.

There were many, many railway sidings with classic grain elevators butted up near the tracks. This is like a picture from an old geography book detailing the economy of the Prairie provinces when agriculture provided most of the exports.

Of course there were houses standing, seemingly isolated, in the fields. Sometimes there were small grain silos nearby. Sometimes not. The houses varied in size, perhaps a reflection of the wealth of the farm. This small house seemed typical of what might have been a scene from a half-century or more ago. It’s a reflection of our collective Canadian history, and the role farmers played in settling the Prairie provinces.

Our destination was Bird’s Hill Provincial Campground, northeast of Winnipeg. This large park was originally farmland, expropriated from about 150 landowners to create the park. It is named for the Curtis Bird, the first speaker of the Manitoba legislature in 1873, and whose family settled along the Red River in the early 1800s.

It is a very large park – about 35 square kilometres. Within the park there are trails, none of which are extremely difficult so most people can use them with ease. There are designated mobility-accessible trails so persons with mobility differences can enjoy a day in nature as well. We used the regular trails, which meant taking Granville for a long walk was a pleasure for all of us. The trails wended around the campsites of the park.

Our campsite – tree pod – was marvellous. It had a half dozen campsites laid around a circular driveway.

Initially we though it might be congested. It was not. Each campsite was down a slight embankment, surrounded by trees and shrubs, and very private. We didn’t see any other campers in any of the pods. It was, we reckon, the best design possible for effective use of space that ensured easy distribution of the trailer services, and also provided privacy for the campers. We can only speak highly of this campsite design.

We had purchased samosas at Sophie’s restaurant in Hadashville. We made our own multi-cultural meal – beans and rice, samosas, fried onions, some crisps, and Canadian beer for Nigel. Very tasty, and rather fun for a camp-site meal.

It was a long day, filled with interesting sights, and quiet pleasures. The area was under an air-quality alert because the prevailing winds were carrying smoke from the wildfires west of us. Those smoky-hazy skies coupled with the long summer nights of the northern latitudes gave us lingering, gentle sunsets. Manitoba, on this visit, was much like the sunsets – lingering gently in our thoughts long after we travelled on.

Campsite # 14 Bird’s Hill Campground, Winnipeg, MB

Bird’s Hill Campground, our favourite so far. There is a unique design here, with six campsites set around a centre ring. The vehicles stay parked along the edges of the ring, beside the campsite entrance. The campsite is a delightfully spacious and private enclave. We pitched our bug-tent because, well because there were bugs. Not as atrocious as elsewhere, but it felt comfortable in that space. Granville and OrangePekoe had space to move around (yes, tethered, but on long leashes) without being perturbed by others.

Bird’s Hill has many amenities – a lake for swimming, many trails, a tuck-shop, and a first class restaurant. All within walking distance of our campsite. It was a fine campground, from our perspective because we could relax and recharge our batteries here.

Campsite # 15 Chez Pienke, near Lipton, SK

A friend from Botswana days is working on a farm in Saskatchewan. We parked in his yard. OrangePekoe stayed in the trailer, which we think suited her to a ‘t’. Granville was permitted to sleep inside, so she was in the lap of luxury

Chris’s home is surrounded by grain fields. He has an acre or so of mowed grass around the house, which was plenty of room for Granville to roam. Us, too, actually. We stretched our legs here. Mostly we stretched our thoughts with conversations about what we three were doing now-a-days, “when-we” talk of Botswana (as one does), and our various plans for our futures. Good conversation. Couple with a southern African braai, which we thoroughly enjoyed.

Campsite # 16 Tillebrook Provincial Park, Brooks, AB

A little bit of a surprise. I booked Tillebrook for one night, a pause in the dash to get west by self and externally appointed deadlines. After a long day of driving we found Tillebrook, tucked against the highway, about half-way across Alberta along the Trans-Canada Highway. Tucked away is exactly how it felt to us. This was a small, green oasis, a well-appointed campground with fairly generous sites. We were close to neighbouring sites, but somehow it felt more spacious. Opposite our campsite there was a large green space where we could walk undisturbed towards the trails that circled the campground.

Unfortunately we only had one night here; had I realised it’s attractiveness I would have booked a second night. We both also misjudged the recovery time necessary after a long drive. One night is not enough. A couple of lessons learned from Tillebrook.

Campsite # 17 Canyon Hot Springs Resort, Revelstoke, BC

Canyon Hot Springs was a welcome relief after a second day with a long drive. It is well marked, and easily accessible from the Trans-Canada Highway, with an access road directly off the highway. It was a busy place, with short and long term campers, and people coming only for the warm water swimming pool. This pool is apparently fed by hot springs, but it looked too much like a regular swimming pool, which tweaked our credibility. While we were not impressed with the hot spring pool, we did find the campsite was just right. We were tucked into a corner, surrounded on two sides by woods. In a commercial campground, where trailers are parked cheek by jowl, this was a huge bonus.

And in the greater spaces of the campground, we found a couple of trails, and a rapidly flowing, icy-water river. Plenty to interest us. And for me, a bit of nostalgia because the train track through the Rockies was just there, with the regular clackety-clack of trains all day and all night long. No, it did not trouble me; it was a sound from my childhood, when we lived near the train tracks. All that, plus surrounded by mountains. A lovely location.

Campsite # 18 Hazelmere Campground, Langley, BC

A third day that required a long drive to reach our destination. Thankfully the road was smooth, and usually it was a divided highway. These long drives always take much longer than expected; google maps fails to calculate for driving with a trailer. MsGeo got us to Hazelmere Campground, which is located in an urban area. The reception was as it had been when I phoned to book the campsite – warm, welcoming, and informative about what was available in the campground, and where to find essential places, like the grocery store. Our site was wonderful. We were in an end-site, with a slightly larger side yard surrounded by a cedar hedge. Behind us was a tree-shaded river. It was like camping in a tiny park.

We just wanted to rest, because the days of driving, which means, in essence, little activity, are beginning to tire us. There was a large field just across the river where we could walk with Granville. OrangePekoe was content to sit on the wall beside the river and watch for birds. And finally, we had our annual, vacation mini-golf tournament. This time our scores were even. We both liked the ambience at Hazelmere, which was continuously warm, welcoming, chatty, no matter who was working.

A couple of more campsites, and then we’ll be at our final destination. We’re looking forward to both – continuing camping, and the final destination.

Campsite # 7 Bristol, QC

Our second pause in the camping regime. This is one of our favourite places – my cousins’ home on a farm in Pontiac County ,Quebec. We parked under the big tree in their yard. OrangePekoe, the cat, very contentedly stayed tethered to the tow-hitch. She watched birds, the dogs (my cousin also has a dog), and us from a vantage point in the vehicle, or sheltered underneath it. With plenty of water and a small bowl of dry cat food readily available, she was, we presume, in cat glory. Granville, after an initial aggressive display, settled down and made friends with Rosie the farm dog, if you can call dogs palling around friendship. Nigel and I were comfortably accommodated in the house. Thereafter it was good conversation, updates on our respective families, quiet times for reading, and plenty of time to relax. It was, as always, an easy-going atmosphere at my cousin’s home. We enjoyed a tasty lunch, with a friend, at a small restaurant – a bonus for us. After a couple of days here the two of us certainly felt relaxed and ready for the next portion of the trip west.

Campsite # 8 Roe Campground, Arrowhead Provincial Park, Huntsville, ON

It was a surprise to find that Ontario campsites provide power, but no water. However, there is a water-filling-station near the sani-dump, so people with trailers can fill their reserve tank for use during their stay.

Arrowhead Park has three large campgrounds, with a total of nearly 400 campsites. Roe Campground has 100 campsites, some electric, some not. We were in the middle portion in a large site that felt as though there was no-one else nearby. The vegetation between sites was thick, obscuring almost all sight of other trailers, even from the roadway leading to the campsites.

We chose to spend a couple of nights at Arrowhead Park. It was long enough for a short pause to catch our breath, and be rested for the next phase.

Plans for a walk along one of the trails at Arrowhead did not transpire. The rain was coming down in torrents, and included thundershowers. This was not weather for walking through the woods and beside lakes. We were not able to enjoy all that Arrowhead had to offer, nor to share it with our visitors. But we had a fine time because we had visitors.

Campsite # 9 Green Bay Lodge and Camping, Noelville, ON

Originally chosen to meet with the friend who visited us at Arrowhead, we kept this reservation because it was a classic Canadian RV holiday campground. There is a lake with a plethora of water toys, boats, kayaks and canoes to rent, a restaurant and bar for the evening’s entertainment – in other words, the works.

Our site is at the very edge of the permanent sites, where people have set their trailers, added patios, and essentially stay all season. It’s like a small cottage encampment, set for long-term stays. It is a lively place with children and young adults everywhere, riding around on bicycles and ATVs, wearing only swimsuits and carrying nothing more than a towel.

There are only two sites for night-by-night rentals, and we had one of them. Like we’ve experienced with commercial campgrounds, we are cheek-by-jowl with the neighbour, and wide-open to the road. That being said, it has been congenial, with several short conversations with the other campers. We wanted to rest, so we took the time to read and relax. I think this was a good experience in terms of R&R.

Campsite # 10 Agawa Campground, Lake Superior Provincial Park, Wawa, ON

This campground should be glorious, and certainly the setting fits that description. Campsites run in four rows parallel to Lake Superior. A long, sandy beach, peppered with larger pebbles, lined the water’s edge. The beach is human only, no animals allowed. But, bearing in mind that many campers, including us, bring pets, there is a designated dog beach. We took Granville and OrangePekoe to the beach every day, and usually we were alone there.

The unfortunate component of this campsite is that Highway 17, the Trans Canada Highway, was adjacent to the campground. The traffic noise of the huge transport trucks, cars, and motorcycles driving up and down the road. It did quieten down at night, but by 05:30 the trucks were already in motion.

Other than that distraction, this was a lovely campground. The campsite itself was covered with trees, with a cleared space wide enough for a large camping trailer. Plenty of room for us, with our smaller trailer.

Campsite # 11 Marathon, ON

Marathon – a couple of nights inside, visiting a long-time friend from Botswana days. As always, our friend was warm and welcoming. We were extremely comfortable with lots of conversation, and some moments of quiet time together. Her dogs, after an initial stance, accommodated Granville. OrangePekoe stayed in the camping trailer, much to her delight (we think she likes it because she gets to explore the hidey-holes in the trailer).

Wendy asked us to stay an extra night, and we gratefully accepted her invitation. It began raining soon after we arrived, and continued to rain, at times heavily, for the next day. A quiet day is always good, but this rainy disruption gave us a long, quiet day, gratefully received. We read, talked, talked some more. Granville, on the other hand, was glad to have an opportunity to sprawl out on the couch.

Campsite # 12 Campground, Quetico Provincial Park, ON

Quetico, the quintessential back-country campground. We were front-country camping. That is to say, we were camping in regular sites. Ontario provides power only at camping trailer sites. We had to fill our tank from a designated water filling station in the park. This was fine with us, of course. Our very large campsite was fairly open, but as we had come to expect in Ontario provincial campgrounds, privacy barriers in the form of shrubs and trees surrounded the site.

Ontario provincial campgrounds provide many activities for campers. There is always canoeing, and often a beach for swimming. At Quetico there was a small museum outlining some of the centuries-long history of the area. That captivated us. This area has piqued my interest, and that requires more research on my part.

Campsite # 13 Campground, Rushing River Provincial Park, Kenora, ON

Rushing River Provincial Park seemed to not quite come up to its potential. We were assigned a very public campsite, where we tried to create an illusion of privacy. We were relatively successful because we had a corner plot with a huge rock on one side and a small clutch of trees on the other.

And then the rain came. We had a terrific thunderstorm. Rain was pouring down as though someone was dumping buckets of water on the earth. Thunder cracked, lightening flashed – a very loud display. A couple of the thunder-lightening episodes seemed to be right overhead, certainly nearby. Quite a show and it seemed to confuse the electrics in the trailer – the smoke detector bleeped, the carbon monoxide and propane alert completely gave up the ghost, and the water pump went on the fritz. We always hope to have a bit of excitement when camping, but this was a bit too much excitement.

I guess in the campground bingo game 13 was lucky for some.

Rushing River Provincial Park was the logical evening stop along a route less travelled. The main route west, through this part of Ontario is Highway 17, the Trans-Canada road from Thunder Bay to the border with Manitoba. Wanting to look at something a little different, curious about the area around Rainy River and Lake of the Woods, we chose to travel along Highway 11, then north on Highway 71. This was new territory for both of us.

By now we knew what to expect as we drove along through the classic Canadian tree tunnel.

The Canadian Shield, which covers more than half of Canada has left an indelible imprint on the landscape. How could it not – it is the underlying bedrock that determines the structure and content of so many of our provinces. The now familiar sight – bog, lake and bare rock – appeared regularly beside the road.

Occasionally the water was wider, giving the impression of a lake. Impression only. It was an example of a larger marshy area, filled with conifers, cat-tails and exposed rocks.

All this morass is the result of severe glaciation which scraped the soil from the underlying rocks, and compacted the remaining soil so it fails to drain well. The extensive muskeg, those marshy areas we kept seeing, is the result. Even after a billion years, the effects of the ice age are still evident, still affecting the landscape of this part of Canada.

We were unlucky with the weather. A severe rainfall warning came to fruition. Suddenly it was pouring. We had little option but to continue driving. With that heavy rain, visibility was poor, and there was no safe place to pull off the road.

Thankfully, there was a break in the rain just as we spotting a roadside picnic area. These are fairly frequent turnoffs on the Ontario roads. Often they are well appointed with picnic tables and ‘comfort’ stations (a sweet word for toilets). We welcomed this break in the travel trajectory. We both know that frequent breaks are important.

With the two animals breaks happen more frequently than might otherwise be the case. You know how it is – we get focussed on making time, getting to the destination. The roadside picnic sites where we stop every couple of hours force us to slow down, pause, and remember that the journey is as important as the destination. Having driven through some heavy rain, we were very glad to pause for a sandwich and a cool drink. We admired the very attractive stands of birch trees, glistening after the rainfall.

Just a few kilometres beyond the picnic area the vegetation at the side of the road became less dense. We could see a lake through it – Rainy Lake.

Unexpectedly, there was a scenic viewpoint at the side of the road. We stopped to look at this expansive lake, approximately 90 km long, and 75 km wide, with three long fingers north west and south east. We were impressed with the view, obscured in part by trees that had grown since the roadside-wide-spot was constructed.

In the mid-1800s, the area was surveyed by a dual expedition, the Dawson/Gladman expedition. A few years later, Dawson was appointed Superintendent of Roads. He surveyed much of northwest Ontario and south-east Manitoba with the objective to find where roads could be built to bring settlers to the area. We were inadvertently following along some of his trails west. Highway 11 follows the Dawson trail for about a quarter of the distance, then it follows continues along the Rainy River route used by Voyageurs. Using contemporary transportation, we were following an historic trail.

(https://heritage.enggeomb.ca/index.php/Dawson_Trail)

One of our thrills was driving along the long causeway at the western end of Rainy Lake. It’s always fun to drive, seemingly on top of the water, from one bit of land to another. This short causeway, at water level, was interesting.

Having worked on several power line projects in various parts of the world, the power lines that snaked along the contour of Rainy Lake interested Nigel. Discussion ensued about the technical challenges of the survey as well as the construction challenges to ensure stability in the electrical towers. The engineers found a stable solution, perching the towers on bits of land jutting into the lake. Possibly some of the tiny peninsulas were created with the express purpose of supporting the towers, a well-considered solution from his experience opinion.

Just beyond Fort Frances, we began to see float planes, which take people ot the many fishing lodges dotted around Rainy Lake and Lake of the Woods. Sport fishing is big business here. Apparently record-sized walleye, bass, northern pike and sturgeon are caught in these lakes. Because there is very little solid ground, access to the fishing camps and lodges is by float plane only.

There is a small company near where we live in Nova Scotia that makes the floats for planes like these. It could be that this plane is sporting Bear River floats.

Lake of the Woods, a large lake in northwestern Ontario, is a prominent feature. We could almost reach out and touch it as we drove along Highway 71 towards Rushing River Provincial Park.

Lake of the Woods and Rainy Lake are connected by many waterways. Portages might be necessary to transport a canoe from one lake or river to another, but it seems that this part of Ontario is a maze of lakes and rivers. Canoe routes are indicated on billboards at provincial parks. We saw some of them at Quetico, which link the Dawson Trail to these western lakes. At Rushing River Provincial Park, we examined another canoe route billboard.

The five trails that originate in Rushing River Provincial Park are part of the Trans Canada Trail, a system of trails that traverse the country from the Atlantic to the Pacific to the Arctic. These trails include paddling trails, like the Migizi Trail, which runs from Kenora to Dryden. A map of that trail is at one of the portage points in Rushing River.

While not prepared to canoe, we were content to walk along trails. We meandered along one of the portages. This was a fairly easy trail, beside the river. Within a very short space, we saw rushing water.

and calm water, and could understand the difficulties that a portage could present to those recreating the classic treks of the voyageurs.

Canoeing is a favourite Canadian outdoor activity. We are all Voyageurs at heart. Many people want to canoe in the provincial parks in northwestern Ontario, following historic routes. To facilitate participation in a much liked activity, and a link to Canada’s history, Parks Ontario rents canoes. They are stacked on racks beside access points. These are the solution for those who do not own or did not bring their canoe to the park.

The closest we got to water immersion was a brief swim in the Rushing River. Nigel was the brave one. Not me. I suspected it would be cold, and Nigel assured me it was indeed very cold. He swam briefly; more like hopped in and out again. Only children seemed to stay in for any length of time.

The swim, at sunset – a traditional summer activity. So too was the sunset over Dogtooth Lake, filtered through the trees that ring it. Canadian classical seasonal images.

Kakabeka Falls is the second highest waterfall in Ontario (Niagara Falls is higher). On the Kaministiquia River, Kakabeka drops 40 metres from one level to the next. It does this with thunderous majesty, creating a wild, foamy waterfall reflecting the violence of the tumble over the rocky Pre-Cambrian ledge.

Kakabeka Falls Provincial Park is where to see this amazing sight. There is a boardwalk, with protective barriers, around the falls. It is well marked, and regularly patrolled by park personnel. For us, it was a pleasure to walk around a well-maintained and easily accessible site. There are maps at a couple of locations along the boardwalk, pointing out the salient features of Kakabeka Falls, and walking routes around the park.

After the last glacial era, the icy meltwater eroded a channel through the sedimentary rocks. The layers of shale are well demarcated in the escarpment that creates the chasm through which the Kaministiquia River surges. Under its powerful water flow, that unstable shale channel continues to erode today.

The rocky escarpment is off limits because of continuing rock falls. Quite frankly, I think it should be off limits because of the rapids and the danger of being swept underwater by the currents. It always looks so calm from a distance, such as from a viewing platform at the top of the escarpment.

Don’t be fooled. That water is a swirling imbroglio which will pull anyone or anything into its embrace. Not exactly loving, but certainly all encompassing.

The Voyageurs, the European fur traders who plied the waters of Northwestern Ontario in the 1600s were cautious around the swirling and plunging waters of this area. They developed a portage around the Kakabeka Falls. Portages were necessary components of the routes through Canada. They were used to bypass waterfalls and rapids, life-threateningly dangerous for the travellers and their laden canoes. The Voyageur route, named the Mountain Portage, was used by several of Canada’s eminent European explorers, surveyors, map makers and settlers. This is commemorated with a plaque at the falls.

Stories, tales, legends often originate with waterfalls. There is a legend that Ojibwe Princess, Green Mantle was captured by the fearsome Sioux. She deceived those warriors by leading them on a false route down the Kaministiquia River towards Kakabeka Falls. The Sioux realised the trickery too late. They and Princess Green Mantle plunged to their death over the thunderous waterfall. The legend holds that you can glimpse the princess in the mist of the falls. She must have been at peace on the day we were there, because she did not appear. However, stretch the imagination, and maybe, just maybe, she floated through this misty section.

Standing on the bridge above the falls it is easy to understand how the Sioux warriors were fooled by Princess Green Mantle. The water is deceptively calm, then suddenly ripples begin, and the waterfalls are just ahead. A stick dropped in the water, swirled and tossed along, taking mere seconds to tumble over the edge. Those little waves pull with significant force.

The bubbling cauldron just where the water overflows fascinated me. The whole scope of this landform was laid out before me. From this vantage point the edge of Kakabeka Falls, and the depth of the drop into the chasm below, were both visible.

From the boardwalk at the side of the falls, their full majesty was on display. That watery plumage, best seen from a slightly off-set angle, did not disappoint. Quite the opposite. The whole scene was enthralling. Pounding water advancing rapidly over the 100 metre wide cataract. Stalwart rocks helplessly trying to dam the flow. Valiant trees standing guard on the side lines. A scene worthy of the phrase “The True North, strong and free!”

Powerful water sculpted this natural architecture, continuously chiselling away at the rock ledge, eroding it attometre by attometre while at the same time we stood mesmerised, and sprinkled, by the dancing spray.

Standing there, I imagined Voyageurs, early map-makers, and even Princess Green Mantle, standing on this spot, feeling the same awe and respect for Kakabeka Falls as I felt.

We were on the road again, heading towards Quetico Provincial Park.

We do use the GPS in the vehicle, but we are both traditionalists. GPS functions well for details, and for information within a few kilometres. We like using a paper map. It provides the overview that we crave.

We were not disappointed to observe the now familiar Canadian Shield landscape: lakes

trees, and rocks.

The road was lined with rock cuttings showing off the granite for which the area is renown. Granite is a very common igneous rock, and the main rock in the Earth’s crust. It was formed more than a billion years ago when molten lava was oozing and spitting its way to the surface of the Earth. Now we see evidence of that geological activity when we drive through the rock cuttings on Highway 17, that hugs its way around Lake Superior.

There was evidence of current rock blasting along the route, presumably to continue with road improvements. This section created an impressive cliff-edge, foreshadowing what we would see an hour later.

Although not a stressful drive, we paused for a scenic break at a road-side pull-off about 2-1/2 hours west of Marathon. The view over Lake Superior, hazy and obscured by trees, was spectacular.

Behind us was an equally spectacular escarpment. This is the Kama Cliffs, a long section of exposed bedrock. We reckoned the vertical exposure was about 25 metres high.

The Ontario government has developed the Kama Cliffs Reserve, and a lengthy Conservation Statement is associated with that project. The Pays Plat First Nation, an Ojibwe community near the Kama Cliffs has been consulted about conservation in the area. Apparently “Nothing in this Statement of Conservation Interest affects in way existing or future aboriginal or treaty rights. These rights will continue to be respected.” (https://www.ontario.ca/page/kama-cliffs-conservation-reserve-management-statement)

Presumably the Reserve Management Statement takes into account the seven essential values in Canadian Indigenous teaching. These values guide us in how we must live with ourselves, others, and the natural environment. Here is very light reading to explain these values – https://www.ola.org/sites/default/files/common/pdf/Seven%20Grandfather%20Teachings%20WEB%20Eng%20.pdf

The area we were overlooking touches the Lake Superior National Marine Conservation Area, an protected area in the largest fresh water lake in the world. One of the main tributary rivers is the Nipigon River, which arises in Lake Nipigon. The main bridge on this portion of the Trans-Canada Highway is the Nipigon River Bridge. It is a cable-stayed bridge. That means the bridge is supported by cables attached to upright posts. This very attractive bridge was fully opened to traffic in 2018.

The Trans-Canada Highway bypasses the towns along this route. This makes for speedy travel, a much desired feature on long-distance drives. Because of this, we did not see the towns, not even Thunder Bay. We drove near them, but not through them. It meant we caught glimpses of the scarce but seemingly productive farmland along Highway 17.

As we neared Thunder Bay we were reminded about a famous Canadian who ran from St John’s, Newfoundland to Thunder Bay, Ontario in 1980. His Marathon of Hope continues as an annual fund-raising activity for the Canadian Cancer Society. A portion of the Trans-Canada has been renamed the Terry Fox Courage Highway, memorialising one young man’s philanthropy., and continuing inspiration to many Canadians.

Beyond Thunder Bay, we paused for a rather long time at Kakabeka Falls on the Kaministiquia River. At 40 metres, these are the second highest falls in Ontario. (Niagara Falls is just more than 10 meters higher.) Kakabeka Falls plunge over the underlying Pre-Cambrian rock. The water is brown, not from mud or pollution but from the tannins and organic matter that have steeped into the water from the spruce bogs and wetlands upriver. There is a boardwalk with viewing platforms so tourists, like us, could enjoy the view and experience the majesty of Kakabeka Falls.

Past more lakes,

more trees and wildflowers

we arrived at Quetico Provincial Park.

The Parks Office had a small museum. Of course we examined the exhibits.

We did our best to follow the advice on one of the posters – putting together all the pieces.

We did that by spotting flora,

and fauna,

and the occasional troop of fungi.

Quetico Provincial Park has many, many canoe routes. The Coeur-de-Bois and Voyageurs paddled their large birchbark canoes along these waterways, creating and maintaining trade routes with the First Nations. Quetico keeps that tradition, with fibreglass canoe rentals available in the park. The canoes rest at several access points, ready for keen outdoorsy types.

We were full of admiration for those historic canoeists, and the contemporary ones. Once upon a time, when I was young, I enjoyed canoeing. These days I reminisce and enjoy dipping my toes in the water. Nigel and Granville did the same.

Quetico Provincial Park is a reminder of times past and also a presentation of contemporary Canadian wilderness. As during the times of the Voyageurs, there are no defined canoe routes in Quetico, but there are hundreds of kilometres of interconnected waterways. Any lake, like this one, is connected to several other lakes directly via rivers that flow in or out of the lake, or indirectly via portages over the small portions of land that separate the lakes. Looking at this lake, imagine canoeing along as a voyageur, drinking in the beauty of the scenery, the flora and fauna visible en route, and the excitement of anticipated trade opportunities. That is the joy of Quetico.

Our route on this day went from Agawa Bay Campground to Marathon, Ontario. A mainly inland route, it was a short drive – about 4-hours door to door. We left later than we planned, so we decided to make no stops en route.

Best laid plans. There was an unexpected stop. Continuing along the TransCanada – Highway 17 in this part of Ontario – began with a slow-down. We stopped because of construction. Damage caused from a road washout less than a week previously was under repair. Very interesting to see the process, and how quickly the work was being completed.

We had long realised that the roadside views through this epitome of the Canadian Shield would include bogs,

lakes with islands in the middle,

and a new feature – rivers.

Occasionally a raging river ran right beside the highway.

These were all quick sightings. The passenger (me) was looking all the time. The driver (Nigel) was looking as much as he could, but his concentration was on the road. The Trans-Canada was in excellent condition, except for the washout-bit. However, there was constant vigilance for wildlife, especially moose. We spotting nothing like that. The wildest thing we saw was Nigel’s neckerchief.

As well as all those natural features, there were many human created features along the road. Every 2 km there was a distance marker indicating how far it was to the Manitoba border.

The road passed through many rock cuttings created to construct the smooth highway . They showed off the underlying igneous rock so typical of this area. Sometimes there was red in the rock, possibly hematite used to create the red ochre in the rock art we saw at Agawa Bay. Possibly an indication of iron deposits. All speculation on our part.

Logging is a major industry in this area. There was evidence of that in several places. It is not a beautiful industry, but we all like wood and paper so it is a necessary industry.

Human created structures, like this seemingly delicate metal bridge over White Lake revealed the industriousness of the early settlers in the area. Roads were built. That led to bridges to cross the lakes and rivers facilitating transportation of the logs and other primary industry products gleaned from this region.

Mining is another primary industry in the area. Barrick Mines are gold mines. There were three mines near Marathon, it dwindled to one, but there is discussion and promises of re-opening one or maybe both of the closed mines. This is the working mine, I believe.

We rounded a corner in the road, and there ahead was Lake Superior, a sapphire drop sparkling at the end of the tree tunnel that we’d been driving through.

Our long drive through fairly similar landscape, led us to Marathon. This is a small town on the shore of Lake Superior. Historically, most people worked at the pulp mill. As that industry was closing down, the gold mines began opening up.

We were there to visit our friend Wendy. She is a long-time friend from Botswana days. We were glad to see her again, and to meet her friend Wayne.

Our all-too-short pause with these friends was filled with activity, conversation and laughter. One day was so rainy that we stayed inside, but on the other day we got out to explore a bit of Marathon. Wendy and I went on a tour of the town – Pebble Beach, with smooth rocks the size of watermelons,

the swimming beach in the harbour,

and Penn Lake, surrounded by a large municipal park, nearly in the middle of town.

Nigel and Wayne played golf at the Peninsula Golf Course. This course was the last course designed by Canadian Stanley Thompson, a world-renown golf course architect.

The course, as outlined on the sample score card, seems challenging. Nigel said it was challenging to score well, but it doesn’t punish high-handicappers too badly. That being said, both men played well.

When we visit friends, we are there for the craic – wide-ranging conversations, catching up, and then extending to current activities. At Wendy’s we were assured of some quiet times, just being company in the same room, an amusing ourselves together on the rainy day, e.g. talking while playing online games,

and very tasty meals.

And except for the rainy night, we enjoyed seeing the sunset from Wendy’s back patio. A memorable ending to each day.

Recognising that some people travel with dogs, and that dogs often like to run off leash on a beach, Agawa Bay Campground has a dedicated dog beach. It is shielded from the human beach by a bit of a dune and a shallow creek.

Being constantly tethered is a new lifestyle for Granville and OrangePekoe. There is little space for them to roam at the campsite., and even less when their movements are restricted to the length of their tether. We took the two of them to the dog beach for some R&R.

Granville exploded into action, running and cavorting on the sand. OrangePekoe was more circumspect, initially mincing about a bit on the sand.

Debris had been left on this beach, which made an ideal play-park for our pets. OrangePekoe found a log that became her balance beam as she carefully trod her way along it.

Not to be outdone, Granville found a bigger log, one that spanned a few metres of water. That became her balance beam. She did well, reaching the other side without a tumble into the drink.

And so it continued until Granville launched herself into Lake Superior to retrieve a stick. Then OrangePekoe sat to one side, quietly tolerating the shenanigans.

A small stick was not enough. Granville’s favourite game, a version of tossing the caber, was on the beach agenda.

Expending that pent up energy was just what the animals needed. And us, quite frankly.

We had a quiet walk back up the beach and back to our campsite. It is an excellent idea having a dedicated dog beach at a provincial park. Both dogs (or cats) and their humans are content with that.

Lake Superior Provincial Park has several trails with varying challenge levels. We are mature now, so the mountain climbing and long-distance rambles of our youth are not quite as appealing as once they were. Especially not on the usually uneven, and often narrow terrain of the Canadian Shield.

Pinguisibi is an easy, linear trail. Total length is about 6 km. We walked about half of it, to the first waterfalls. That was our objective. There are more waterfalls on the route, which leads to a portage for one of the canoe routes. I dislike walking out and back along the , same route – a bit boring for me. Nigel is quite accepting of them, but with Granville’s antics, and OrangePekoe remaining alone in the trailer, we were not interested in the further distance.

Granville, leashed to Nigel, gallivanted along the trail. If shenanigans were possible, she fully dipped into that behaviour. At one point she nearly knocked Nigel into the water because she was so keen to jump into the swirl below. Thankfully he was ready for her actions. He frequently braced himself against a tree to gain further purchase. That rapidly whirling water was just below him. I stood back and took snapshots, as any loving partner would do.

Rapids are fascinating. The water bubbles and boils, swirls and whirls, tumbling over rocks and boulders in its race downstream. The ever-changing patterns are mesmerising, almost pulling a person over the edge and into the water. I tend to stand back, not trusting the rocks nor the hypnotic effect.

The trail was fairly easy walking. Sometimes Nigel and Granville went ahead.

I trailed behind, taking snapshots of new-to-me plants.

We rounded a bend in the trail, and suddenly there was the waterfall. Not a big drop, but certainly a rough looking tumble downward.

We wandered a bit further along, and discovered that we could walk out along the rocks above the waterfall. This usually makes me apprehensive. Water is unpredictable. Even in a river there are sudden waves that reach out and grab an unsuspecting bystander. Standing at the side to take a photograph was just fine with me.

There are often calm pools above any waterfalls. The water seems to swirl in anticipation of its exciting roller-coaster trip down the falls, creating delightful mandala-type designs in the pool. I can watch these for hours; they seem almost meditative.

Returning back along the trail, we had a close look at the smooth, flatish, rocky formations below the rapids. Nigel and Granville walked out a distance.

Being much more cautious, I stayed closer to shore, from where I could admire the designs in the rock that mimicked the swirling designs in the water above the falls.

The famous Canadian painter group, The Group of Seven, painted the Canadian landscape from Haliburton to north of Lake Superior. Having seen, and walked along, sa variety of Canadian terrains, I can understand the appeal of recording these delightful and iconic landscapes in paintings. Next time, I might carry my easel and paints.

Behind all the rock walls Lake Superior Provincial Park boasts eleven hiking trails ranging in difficulty from easy (fairly level terrain, about 1-2 hours long) to very demanding (not well marked, very uneven, long distance, overnight trip). We opted for a couple of the medium hikes.

The walk to see the Agawa Bay Pictographs was our premier choice. The Ojibwe name for this area is Mazinaubikinguning.

The trail to the rock art is 400 metres, including a 30 meter descent to the water’s edge. There is a distance marker about half-way down the trail.

The trail winds through a forested area, the classic Canadian jungle of trees and shrubs. Moss spread over almost everything indicating the dampness of the area. Ferns sprouted from handfuls of available soil. A mixture of deciduous and coniferous trees obscured the sky.

Not to be outdone by the trees and shrubs, the rocks presented their own intriguing display. Down a short side path, a chasm was seemingly held apart by a balancing rock.

There was an information placard at the narrow path through a chasm towards the balancing rock. It explained that the granite rocks in the chasm had been formed from molten rock 2-1/2 billion years ago. There were later intrusions of a softer rock, which here is called diabase. In some places, like this one, the diabase eroded and left the granite exposed. Presumably the granite boulder suspended in the chasm is a relic of the erosion.

We turned our back on this phenomenon, and continued along the rough, green and granite-strewn path.

Not too far ahead we could see the rock wall with its famous pictographs. These red ochre images are a mystery. Possibly they are records of dreams, events, or mythical creatures.

Some images have been identified, and a chart at the viewing platform indicates that information.

When the water is calm, tourists can walk along the small ledge at the bottom of the cliff. We were fortunate with weather – calm, with a barely perceptible swell on the lake. The first images
were visible from the viewing platform.

The ledge under the cliff, while providing close viewing of the rock art, is a potentially dangerous place. There was a sign indicating the danger at the beginning of the trail, and again at the viewing platform.

There are ropes and chains bolted to the cliff that can be held for extra security.

There is also a classic life-saving ring at the beginning of the cliff walk.

Nigel, with his character traits, decided to walk the length of the cliff to see the pictographs. I decided to remain where I was, at the viewing platform, and enjoy the pictographs and scenery from where I stood. It was a distance around the cliff-wall, but Nigel said he saw the pictographs on the chart. Some were darker, more visible than others, but he was glad he continued to the end.

The return trek seemed quicker, as is often the case. We walked up the steps carved by nature and modified by humans. It was an easy climb.

The end/beginning of the trail had a large poster with a photograph of the rock easel that displays these art pieces. Interestingly, contemporary wall art has been added to the display. The art and calligraphic circle continues.