Back in Winnipeg—Again

I was hoping to attend a few meetings this summer but they are scheduled strangely. The May meeting was midmonth, the June one on the 20th, and the July one on the 27th. Instead I used the time in Winnipeg to catch up with my friends again, and to order texts for the fall. I packed a bunch of things for the cabin that don’t need to be in Winnipeg, and changed out the bald rear tire that had done so well crossing the country. I used to wait until they were bald before swapping them out, and then I would wait until the wire came out, and then, realizing that the mixed messages about tires were likely bunk, I waited until they went flat on their own.

I’d been told two very different messages about tires. When they blow, people would say, it is very dangerous, and can cause an accident. Another thing they told me was how many times a tire had gone flat and they’d not noticed. That was usually said in order to warn me to keep an ear open for my tires. It can’t be both, except under particular circumstances. I decided from that point onward not to worry about tires so much, and certainly when I have had flats, which has been numerous times, it has been easy to detect but not dangerous. Granted I do not drive fast and I am careful about curves and cliffs and heavy traffic. I swapped my tire out in Winnipeg largely because I need the space in the car. I put on the spare I’d been carrying since the east coast—actually I was carrying two just in case—and then loaded the three winter tires that have been in the garage here for years.

The car is nearly ready to go and ready to pack. I baked a loaf of bread today and plan to pick up some fruit. It is two days to Toronto and I am hoping to see my sister when I arrive, which will take some creative planning and long days of driving. I’ve been staying up late, so I am hoping I can rise early to be on my way, but if not, then I will drive late into the night until at least Rossport, but maybe White River, or Marathon.

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In Saskatoon

My adventures in Saskatoon first meant leaving the city, for when the oldest son came home and found me online applying for jobs from the back porch and wired into the outside extension cord, he told me his parents were at the cabin east of Humbolt. I debated internally, and then decided to go see the cabin which I had visited in early stages of its building and hang out with them at the lake.

The drive to the cabin felt like a long one after having spent the last two days driving, but it was nice to arrive and find them playing cards while Randy worked outside. I joined him and we tinkered until dinner and then we watched a children’s movie as a family. The next day Randy and I made good on our talk and felled two dead trees that had been under discussion. Once the cleanup from that was done and we’d worked on the dock, it was time to drive back into the city. The family had gone before to visit inlaws, so Randy and I drove to the house and there began the work on a friend’s dishwasher install which was to replace my shingles pain with back spasms. It was easily the worst install I have ever been party to, partially because of decisions made in the past about the flooring and partially just a poor build. Part of my job was to lift and hold the countertop, which easily weighed over a hundred pounds. I felt that the next morning so that when it came time to approach the tree in the backyard, I wasn’t up for it at all. Instead we did more dishwasher work after I took a med to dull the pain, and then persevered.

I left the next day for Winnipeg. My back was slightly better, my shingles a dull ache as a reminder, but oddly a slight intermittent pain in my right ear. I am falling apart.

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Driving to Alberta

I took my leave of my nephew as he went to work. I organized some stuff in my car and when I turned to wave he was already gone to work. We’d said our goodbyes already. I wound the car through the hills north to the Trans-Canada highway and through Sicamous and before long I was on the highway and pulling into Revelstoke for gas.

The car is working quite well for this portion of the trip and has become much less of a character in my ongoing saga. Now it is my health that takes centre stage as my shingles fades and the pain diminishes. I crossed the mountains with intermittent rainstorms and then was delayed a long while on the drive into Calgary. The highway maintenance crews had made one lane out of two and that slowed traffic to a long crawl over the hills as people fought to merge and get ahead of their neighbours instead of joining the line one car at a time. Ahead of us, on the hills of the city, lightning forked down, by times three strikes at once. I dreaded coming into the city with a huge storm and rush hour, but as it turned out, it moved off to the north as I bypassed the city.

The road east of Calgary opened up to a huge horizon and the hills flattened into the broad prairie of the interior plateau. I gassed up in Bassano, where I was about to leave the highway. I asked a woman working the till what the forecast was going to be and comically she glanced outside and said it was going to be cloudy and then seemed to shake herself and added there would be rain in the night. I was already thinking it was going to be stormy for huge banks of nimbus clouds hung over the dropping sun. I drove away from the clouds to where the sky, strangely, was lighter ahead of me in the east, lit from above by the sun’s rays that crept over the towering black clouds.

When I came to Rosemary I took the road to Patricia, but instead of turning into the Badlands I kept going to Iddesleigh and Jenner. Every slough was full and there was water on the OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAroad. The grid roads were heavy with clay and trucks turning onto the highway were smeared with mud. I’d been looking forward to trekking through the badlands again, but with this much water in the mud and more on its way, it would be terrible hiking. Your feet would be weighed down with gumbo and the mud hills too slick to climb.

I drove past Jenner until I came to a side road where the road curved. I took it north for a short distance and then turned off it to the driveway that served one of the communications towers.sunset They make for good camping because they are public property so no one feels inclined to harass someone camping there. I moved some clothes around to pad the emergency brake and pulled my sleeping bag over my head and spent an uncomfortable night until the sun rose clear at five to wake me. I waited it out and left at seven. No one had even driven by the night, and my tracks in the dirt were alone.

I drove the 555 to the highway that runs north and south along Alberta’s eastern border and then turned south to the road to Burstall. When I drove across the border into Saskatchewan and then past Burstall, I was already thinking the road through the sand hills might be impassable because of the rain, so I turned north when I came to Leibenthal and then east to the Lancer and  Cabri highway.

This is one of my favourite drives, along the towns of Sceptre and Portreeve and Abbey. When I dropped south on those roads I drove north to cross the South Saskatchewan River and then along various paved and unpaved roads into Saskatoon on the 7.

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Back in Kelowna

Soon we were on the highway and a number of hours later in Kelowna where I stayed one night with her. I came down from my shower to find the house full and we all hung out until they decided to go to see the fireworks for Canada Day. It was nearly too late, but we left and drove to the downtown and from there went to meet my nephew who was downtown with his friends. It was a strange evening. Many of the people on the street were young and lots of them drunk and when the fireworks were over, the crowd turned ugly. We left soon and I made plans to meet my nephew the following day.

My sister was initially put out that I was meeting my nephew and would be staying with him, but she recovered and brought snacks to meet us later in the day while he and I clambered around in a gully with ancient trash. We looked through bottles and pondered the fate of old cars, and when she joined us we cut the enterprise short and went with her to the beach and enjoyed the food she’d brought.

Later, we went to the Lake Country Band event, where my nephew played trombone and my sister and I talked. It was late by the time that was over, and although my sister still was pushing for us to come to her house, we persevered and came to my nephew’s where he and I watched a Bollywood movie and talked.

My sister planned to find us the next day as well, but as it turned out we went on a long walk along the lake and she went to the beach with her friend. This evening my nephew is out meeting her for dinner, and I am catching up on my writing and talking to my Montreal friend. It’s a pity I can’t spend the last night with my nephew, but that is not to be.

I plan to leave tomorrow for Bassano, past Calgary, and then through Rosemary and Duchess through to Patricia to Dinosaur Provincial Park where I can possibly camp, if they are not too overfull, and if not, where I can keep going into eastern Alberta.

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Vancouver Experiences

I left early to catch a ferry that I had to wait nearly two hours for, but soon enough after reading a book, I was on the ferry and beginning the unraveling that will lead me back to a cabin in the bush far in the east.

Traffic in Vancouver was arduous, but I persevered, and soon I was negotiating the streets in my friend’s neighbourhood and spending time with them and listening to their stories. My pain was much diminished, thanks to the medication, and I was able to listen with an open mind. The following day, I met an old friend from Winnipeg, and through her a delightful community artist in Burnaby. We had lunch at the artist’s place, and then took our leave to Lynn Valley canyon, where we hiked into the hills and along the stream. I avoided my pain meds for most of the day, although I could have used some when we were hanging out.

When I drove her home, through the tangled streets of Burnaby, I took on the responsibility of a few items to deliver to Winnipeg. Then we said our goodbyes, and I went back to my friends in the west end. We have been staying up late and getting up early, but soon I leave the city to drive my sister to Kelowna.

I met my sister and my other nephew in downtown Vancouver, near Chinatown, and there met my sister’s boyfriend, and my nephew’s girlfriend. We exchanged pleasantries, went out for lunch, and then went to look at the boat she bought in the spring. It’s a beautiful boat moored off Vancouver, and on our way to Kelowna.

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To the Coast

When I left Kelowna, my aim was to drive straight through to Sechelt to my friend’s cabin. I was too tired to keep up the pace however, for I haven’t slept well at night for the pain. I pulled over high in the Coquihalla Pass and slept for forty-five minutes in the car. That meant I was arriving in Vancouver in rush hour, and possibly late for a ferry sailing, but it turned out not to matter. My car worked great, which was merciful, and I even found I could idle the motor again without any dire implications for the car’s operation.

I was late enough to the ferry to miss the sailing, and I waited an hour for the next one. That meant I was able to finish my Murakami novel, and rest and eat. On the boat, I went above decks and took pictures, and soon I was taking my pain below and pulling into the traffic of Langdale and on my way to my friend’s cabin.

It was nice to arrive, although my pain and discomfort had reached a crescendo. I hung out with them around the fire after a tour of the property, and when I became a little dizzy, likely from lack of sleep and food, I laid on the grass to their accompanying worrying tones. I felt better after a bit and then I hobbled inside to sleep. I planned to visit my Gibson’s friend the next day, and I privately resolved to find a doctor and get a real diagnosis. My thought was possibly bed bugs for the rash, sciatica for the pain in my butt and down my leg, and I blamed and days of headaches and some fever on not enough sleep or food. My appetite was supressed enough because my stomach shrunk that I can’t eat a full meal, although I am not overly worried about that.

The next morning was perhaps my worst day. The pain was worse, the rash more extensive, and I felt crappy. I went early to find a hospital and there a doctor told me, after a glance at the rash, that I have shingles. Shingles! I am old after all I guess. I finally had an explanation that put it all together. The crouching chicken pox virus of my youth had waited in my spine for an opportune moment and then leapt into action. It was responsible for the nerve pain, the rash, and the fever and headaches. To my dismay, I learned that only if I were able to get a diagnosis within a few days of the disease, would I be able to get an antiviral which would slow the attack. As it was, I merely had to wait it out. My doctor gave me a prescription for T-3s, however, which I downgraded to T-1s, since I obviously can handle a lot of pain and the last time I had taken a pain med was nearly twenty years. I thought a weak one would probably be enough to make me push away the pain, help my friends with their cabin, and not be grumpy with pain.

My friend in Gibson’s concurred. He is trained as a massage therapist, and knows about shingles. We talked about it for a while, and then caught up on our respective lives. There have been a few changes in both our lives since we last hung out. I haven’t been in western Canada in over five years.

I explained my diagnosis when I was back in Sechelt, and around my friends’ dismay, we discussed the rubbish bin they want built from pallets. We began the project the next morning, and after two days of work we had a bin that held the recyclables and trash, as well as some wood. When I took my leave from them to go to Vancouver, it was nearly done and they had already started to stain it. It even looks a bit professional.

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A Long Run on No Brakes

The brakes continue to be a challenge. I am still in pain, and that makes the nine hundred kilometres to Kelowna seem longer than it is, but I was awake at five in the morning and knew it would be a while getting back to sleep, so I left Edmonton early. I was on the road before most of the Albertans, and soon I was passing through Calgary.

Unfortunately, when I applied the brake, even a little bit, while I was driving the freeways of Calgary, they would seize on. I would then have to pull over and wait a bit, and then continue. I decided to try to make it to Kelowna, but that meant crossing the mountains without applying the brakes. I used the motor to slow down when necessary, rarely stopped, and by times, when I’d slowed for construction, I shut down the motor to stop the car. I also used the emergency brake a few times.

I eventually pulled into Vernon, just north of Kelowna, I was in time to check with tourist info so I could message my nephew, and then go to a drugstore for an antihistamine for the rash that had been getting worse. The pain is still bad, but with the brakes acting so temperamentally, I ignored it in favour of new problems.

My nephew was home shortly after my arrival, and soon we were catching up. We spent the next day sourcing a used caliper for my front right brake, and then installing it. Finally, I have brakes I don’t have to baby all the time. While we were driving around in his 1969 Volkswagen Beetle, we talked car talk. I wasn’t over ambitious about long walks or other strenuous activities, but I tried to manage my mood with the pain enough to not be too irritable.

I also used the time to help my friend organise her storage, although that was a bit much with the pain. It was nice to help her however, for she has her own health issues.

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Edmonton

The drive over to Edmonton was short, but a bit painful because of my sciatica. Before I arrived in town I stopped at the tourist information at the border in Lloydminster, and ate lunch and washed up. The Australian woman working there told me to avoid construction on the ring road by going south on the 21 first. Then I picked up the 14 West and I was soon negotiating the tangled suburban roads until I found my friend’s house.

It was nice to catch up after so many years, although the eating was slim until after dark because of Ramadan. I still ate breakfast, but didn’t eat throughout the day. I spent the days hanging out with the kids and watching the youngest, who is also at 15 growing up quickly, play soccer. I also spent one who day fixing computers. I was briefly concerned with Ismael’s car, which has battery issues, but soon we had that working better. The computers were a different matter. Out of the three desktops, I put together two working ones, and then removed three thousand pieces of spam from their main machine. When my friend came home from work, we started in on the two broken laptops. I got them working, and then we went on the tour of the gasifier where my friend works, at the landfill.

His project is considerably more involved now, and they are building the pilot plant based off what he learned from his test plant. Soon they will be able to turn trash into ethanol or methanol.

My sciatica was even more painful, although I did the yoga moves. I wonder if this will continue to bother me on the entire trip.

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Saskatoon by Any Means

I’m told that Saskatoon was merely a seven hour drive from Winnipeg, and so, steering my old car through the traffic and around the potholes of late morning Portage Avenue, I drove away from the sun. Before long I was at Portage La Prairie, where years ago I had guessed that Manitobans don’t use a French pronunciation for French words.

There I turned north to Highway 16, which I am told is slower, but at my highway speeds, one hundred kms an hour, it makes little difference. Not far along the road, I stopped for a long train, and tried filming the endless passing of freight. I drove straight through to Russell, on the border of Saskatchewan, and stopped there for lunch. That was the first I noticed that my butt was sore from the car seat, a pain that I was only to slowly learn the implications of.

The rest of the run into Saskatoon was fairly smooth. I stopped a few times for construction and entertained myself by looking at the passing countryside. The sloughs are full, and each one has a duck or two in it.

I came into Saskatoon by rush hour, for it always seems to be my fate to enter a city when the traffic is heaviest. Luckily, with the new circle drive as they call it, I was soon in the western part of the city and had turned off 11th and circling the neighbourhood trying to find the street where my friends live. Years ago it was much easier to find since I crossed the country more frequently.

It was nice to see my friends again, and to note that their children have grown into adults, except for the youngest, who is thirteen. My butt was sore from the driving, but we soon settled into the catching up we used to do. The young adults, busy with their own lives, filtered in and out of the house as we chatted, and before long I was sleeping despite my aching hip.

The next day, at my friend’s insistence, I checked my radiator fan and found that it had somewhat seized, overheated, and then partially melted the plastic surround and its plastic blades. Then it slumped into the radiator itself. We went to a junkyard and I bought a ten dollar fan, and picked up a few fuses as well.

When it was installed, we set up a tarp in the backyard with a screen and watched the movie, The Martian. I’d seen it before, but it was nice to do as a family. Since the pain in my butt and leg were still a concern I talked to my friend about sciatica. Perhaps I had sat poorly in the car, and aggravated my spine. My friend recommended some yoga moves, and they seemed to help somewhat. Only later did I realize I’d found the wrong end of the stick.

We made plans while I was there to cut down a huge tree in the backyard, but that will have to wait until my return.

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The Long Drive from Toronto to Winnipeg

I had driven across Canada some fifty times and at one time people began to plan around my visits, they were such a sure thing. Even the Toronto to Winnipeg trek I had traversed countless times. Even driving a car that had problems wasn’t unfamiliar to me. It was enough a part of my trips that my friend in Toronto was speaking to her mother in New York and the mother asked how my car was when told I would be visiting.

This trip was no different, in some ways. I was up early in Toronto, but I didn’t want to leave until I’d said goodbye to my friends, so I waited until they rose, said my goodbyes, and went to fight traffic on the 401 to 400 interchange. I revved the engine to prevent idle problems, geared down to prevent the brake seizing, ran the heater so the car wouldn’t overheat, and soon I was on the 400 north, to the tune of increasingly less traffic.

I drove all through that long day. I stopped for gas at a reserve south of Sudbury, and didn’t stop again until Wawa, although I was driving through some of the most beautiful countryside in Canada. After I’d gassed up in Wawa, I stopped to pick up a hitchhiker and him and I traded foster kid stories and talked about finding work in these fraught economic times. He was going to Thunder Bay, but as I told him when I picked him up, I would only be driving another three hundred kilometres or so and then pulling over. He was fine with that, and only became concerned when I described the car’s issues. I waved his concerns away, and soon we were at Rossport, where a small layby beside the water provides a great place to sleep.

He told me he usually was asleep by dark anyway, and asked me tentatively when I’d be leaving in the morning. He wanted me to take him right to Thunder Bay. I wasn’t adverse to the idea, so I told him to sleep where I could find him, and I’d wake him when it was time to go.

The next morning I woke up in the backseat after nearly eight hours of sleep, and he was sitting on a picnic table waiting. I waved and soon we were on our way to Thunder Bay. I left him finally, beside a highway north of the city, and as he turned to walk into town, I let the car pick up speed and take me west to Upsala and Ignace.

I stopped to eat in Ignace, which is something I haven’t been in the practice of on this trip. Largely because I am driving straight through and I’ve eaten enough lately. Once I’d rested and eaten, I passed through Dryden and by Kenora, and soon was on the flat straightaway to Winnipeg.

I arrived in Winnipeg around rush hour, which is, oddly, usually the time I arrive in a city. Annoyingly, it is typically the worst time to get there. Since I was in the eastern part of the city, and my friend lives there, I dropped by, but unfortunately he wasn’t around. Then I fought the traffic and downtown construction until I was running the heater on full just to keep the car cool and finally parked outside my place.

I spent a week in Winnipeg, principally with a few friends. I tried to see those who I missed when I was away, and if our schedules permitted, we spent hours together catching up and talking. I took my young friend to the beach one day with her boyfriend, and we sat on the sand and made up for missed time. By the time I left Winnipeg, I newly confirmed what I continually suspect. I know more people in Winnipeg than anywhere, and it has become a kind of reluctant home.

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