Greetings from Canada

Since I last wrote, we have crossed the border into our neighboring country. The crossing was quick, no waiting, and very few questions. The guard did mention that we might want to sign our new passports! We will spend the rest of the caravan in Manitoba, Canada. For a geography lesson, Manitoba is the province located directly north of Minnesota and North Dakota and stretches way up to the Hudson Bay. We have visited two communities so far…Dauphin and Swan River. The RR will tell you about our traveling so far. In my perspective, the most notable subject about the route is the fields and fields of bright yellow canola. When it is mature, the yellow is almost so bright it hurts your eyes. And then across one stretch, there were also fields of flax blooming a deep periwinkle blue. The contrast was awesome. The communities have been welcoming and hospitable. For instance yesterday we visited the local museum where they had gathered buildings…school, church, store, etc from the past. They served homemade bread made in clay ovens with fresh local honey. Needless to say that was delicious. They had extra bread for sale, and when we mentioned how good the honey was, they made a call and lo and behold, this morning the young niece of the honey producer showed up at our camp ground with honey to sell…wildflower or canola, your choice. See what I mean? Our cell phones and broadband card are turned off until we return to the states. Our Onstar phone remains as our last link…oh yes, and WiFi when we can get it. They tell us that this is the end of the prairie and so from here north the geography will become much more interesting…and perhaps some fishing too!

Till next time…here are some thoughts and observations from your Roving Reporter:

We have had the good fortune to visit a number of interesting churches on this trip. As expected, families who migrated from where ever, often to avoid religious persecution, start a congregation on arrival, and then a building followed quickly. Now I have been inside just all manner of churches from the old country, Europe and Russia. One thing they have in common. The pews. They are extremely uncomfortable. No sleeping; only the possibility of a back ache if you slouch or doze! As in Newfoundland, perhaps they [churches not pews] foretell the future in small American communities. So many facilities have closed. The congregation failed to sustain its numbership and as the group aged they could not support the facility. To complicate the challenges, the number of clergy also declined. The small buildings dot the landscape…a statement to what once was. Others are given to philanthropic groups to share history and explain what was so important or occasionally they house something new…a home, a business, etc.

In Manitoba, every community is proud of its history, and a young history it is north of Winnipeg. Typically towns were founded in 1880 to 1890. Folks moved north because the land was inexpensive and the soil rich. But they found there is no free lunch. The winters up here are brutal. Temperatures plummet to 40 below and the wind blows. The local museums tell the story of the hardships. What struck me? The old “stuff” are the items of my grandparents and my youth! I am not old, I thought, so why are these common household items in a museum. Yesterday it was paper milk bottle caps, skates you clamped to your shoes, Remington typewriters, and dresses Sally wore when we courted. Rotary phones on a party line – remember? For everyone on the caravan, it has been a trip down memory lane. No Sarah, I did not pick up Nana for a trip to the Tiger’s Den in a Conastoga Wagon. I guess 70 is old and 100 is ancient to these Manitobians.
Caravan travel this time is quite different. In the past (Alaska and New Foundland), we got up, left about 8:00 AM and drove most of a day. Along the drive we stopped to visit sites and sample cinnamon buns. The scenery was special, and around each bend there was something awaiting a visitor. Not in Manitoba. Yes we are up and off by 8:00 to 8:30 but we drive directly to our destination. Typically we drive from one camp site to the next. Sometimes we drive 110 miles; sometimes it is 240 miles. We go direct and we are expected to move along smartly. We do not race – 55 is the typical speed – a couple trailers in group separated by miles. When you arrive we stay several days and then move again to a new location. There is nothing to see while driving – not even traffic to speak of – between stops. Yesterday, for example, our traveling partner reported seeing only 6 cars and one truck in 100 miles. Think western Dakotas. It is flat