Christmas Time

Even though Christmas is very definitely a religious event in the Philippines, they sure do like to decorate. Colourful stars and lights are on everything that stands still, and on a lot of things that move! Evergreen trees are in short supply, but they can create Christmas trees out of almost everything. We have seen a bamboo pole with guy wires, ringed with lights and vines and tiny balls, and displays in front of the town hall that are merely geometric shapes and lights.

We spent the days before Christmas visiting relatives. We traveled by bus mostly, trying to avoid being involved in the tricycles’ unique games of chicken with the rest of the traffic. One of our nieces lives in a small house on her father-in-law’s farm. This farm is diverse, and has crops as well as a banana grove and fruit trees. Chickens, goats, ducks and three cows live there. These are not dairy cows. They are the India style cattle that can handle the sun and heat and bugs and they are used as beasts of burden.

 The farm also had a series of small, deep fish ponds that they fish in an unusual way. We watched them drain the pond as much as possible, given that it is spring fed, and expected to see fish flopping around ready to be netted. However, the fish are survivors, too, and there were very few to be seen as they quickly buried themselves in the top layer of the soft, wet mud. To be caught, the fishermen and a couple of eager boys had to dig both hands into the muddy bottom of the pond and feel around until something moved. Then it was a great game of chase and elude until one was triumphant, the hunter or the prey. When the farmers felt they had enough, the pond was allowed to refill and the survivors to reproduce. After years of sitting in the back of a canoe reading a book while hubby tries to tempt a fish to take his bait at the end of a fishing line, I am learning a whole new enjoyment of the sport.

I don’t know what it was like for the 3 wise men in the Jerusalem desert, but in the Philippines, they like to throw a party for birthdays. Late on Christmas Eve, the partying began. Firecrackers were set off with annoying regularity, until way past midnight. Music was played on the street and the road was busy with people and vehicles.  At 10pm, a gaggle of excited children tumbled by on the way to midnight mass, which got the dogs barking. Two hours later, they came back laughing and all psyched up for the highlight of the night - the presents and the special meal served for the occasion. Long before I would wake up for the day, their Christmas was already enjoyed. Once I got to sleep, that is.

After listening to the revelers of the night before, my hubby spent a quiet Christmas morning with his sister and brother preparing for our Christmas dinner. First job was to go to the market for the fresh ingredients. Since their holiday was over, the market and all the stores were open and keeping regular hours. We wandered among the stalls of flopping fish and dismembered animals to get to the vegetables laid out on tables and in baskets. Because the market is within walking distance, we were able to get back quickly to watch my brother-in-law working the fire.  The main kitchen in the house has a sink, counter and fridge, but the only cooking surface is a little 2 burner hot plate. When the weather is a consistent 30 Celsius plus, cooking inside is never a good choice. So there is a covered, concrete area just outside the kitchen in the back of the house. Here they make any fires that they would need for grilling or roasting, using the same techniques that hubby does when he is camping. More prosperous homes may have a hibachi type grill that they would use. So, with no oven available, our fresh chicken was wrapped in banana leaves to roast. Added to several dishes of market fresh vegetables, we had ourselves a wonderful Christmas feast!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Outside of the Tourist View

During our weeks at the resort, hubby and I had a couple of inside views of the life of a Filipino.

I have already mentioned the fishermen on the beaches where we stayed. On one of our last days, we got the chance to view the finale of "bringing in the net", the community effort involved in the harvesting of the local fishing. There is a small boat, maybe 20' at most. It goes out in the morning, accompanied by primitive paddle boats. They drop the net in a large semi-circle within the bay, and leave the paddle boaters in strategic places - I don't know if they are watching the nets, or holding them. When the main boat gets back to shore with the other end, that's when the community gets involved. Men on the beach take the two ends of the ropes and start pulling the nets into shore. These ends start about a kilometer away, with the men pulling and walking towards each other. By the time they reach each other, the ropes are in and the colourful nets appear out of the surf, but this is far from the end of the story.  It takes several hours for the full length of the net to be drawn onto the beach.

We were surprised at the size of the net. It may be very long, but not more than 3 foot deep. These people aren't mass fishing. They aren't trying to catch everything and anything that swims within their bay, which was our first thought at seeing the length of the net. What they are after is the small fish that swim along the top of the warm ocean water.  These are little silver fish no bigger than 2 inches long, certainly not even a mouthful for the tourist types. But the locals survive on these fish, drying them and selling them in the markets.

The day we watched the ending for the first time, there were about 150 people involved in the landing of the catch. The fish are so small that their heads get caught in the netting and when the net is pulled on shore, it is littered with these fish. It would be labour intensive to remove each individual fish, so a couple of the men on shore start beating on the net with sticks, while it is still being pulled in. This creates a reverberation that separates the head, stuck in the net, from the body. So you have little fish bodies flying everywhere!  Most of these fish will stay on top of the net to get scooped up with pans and dishes and put into a communal pot. The rest, flying all over the place, are picked up by women and children, and some are even eaten by the dogs that wander along with the community. The smaller children are underneath the net, picking up anything that gets dropped through. These children are crouched down right under where the men are striking the nets with the sticks, but we never saw one hit. I'm not sure if that's because of the special care of the men, or if the children had already learned the hard way to keep their heads down. Survival seems to be an art around here.

Women come with pots and boxes of all sizes to get their share. It was not clear how it was divided, but for certain, everyone went home with something. What an amazing community effort to observe, and so different from what a tourist would usually see.

I still shake my head over the other observation of this country's lifestyle.  Mid-morning, on the busy road in front of a market, a Christmas Parade went by. Pageants are big here, and this parade was comprised of the chosen kindergarten age "Prince and Princess" on flowered vehicles followed by the runner-ups and interspersed with a couple of bands. These were young children that were on the floats and they were throwing candy to all the other children watching the parade. Normal enough, except that they don't bother to close roads for parades here. While the parade was going one way down the street, cars and trucks and motorcycles and big buses were still driving past them going the other way. Not only did it impede the view of the parade watchers, but the candy was thrown right in front of all these vehicles as they were passing. Children, and adults, would dart out into the road to grab the candy! The crowd had a big laugh when some candy fell under a bus and got run over before it could be picked up.

It blows my mind, coming from an overprotective nanny-state, to see things like this. It is probably why tourists don't usually witness them.

Northern Visit

We decided to take a day trip to the northern tip of the Philippine Islands. We had to leave early for our 2 hour bus trip, but the day was dawning clear and was already warm. As we traveled past ocean views and lush green mountains, we noticed the gray clouds that seemed to be only in the north. Surely they were just passing clouds that would clear before we got there. But as we arrived at the northern end, rain started falling on the bus.

Not deterred from our sightseeing, we hired a tricycle for a day tour of the area. Our first stop was the Kabigan Falls. Not that the tricycle could get anywhere close, but the driver dropped us at the guide shack, and even gallantly let me use his rain slicker. The guide took us up a muddy and meandering path through farm land and up towards the mountain sides. I have been getting better at climbing mountains after this year or so of retirement, but this time I also had to watch out for water buffalo dung. Man, those patties are huge!




 We had to cross fast moving streams using the local bridges: tree limbs laid across the water and sometimes held together by wires. Wider sections even had a smaller branch attached higher for a hand-hold. But we made it up to the  falls, a beautiful sliver of water that descends straight down for 120 feet to the bottom, throwing up a fine spray that mingled nicely with the rain. Our guide was a very nice young lady who explained about the reforestation that was being encouraged in the local area, even as she was getting me to avoid the dung heaps on the way down. She owned the farmland we walked on and proudly showed us the groves of trees that her family had planted over the years.




After giving my driver his wet slicker back, we clambered into the tricycle for the rest of the whirlwind tour. He was determined that we should see all the sights possible in the time we had available, even when we insisted that it didn't matter if we missed something if he would just take it a little slower, please. As it was, we passed along the waterfront in a cramped, enclosed contraption that you couldn't see out of, anyway. At least it was dry. The driver was good enough to stop at several spots long enough for us to pop out and look at the view before squeezing back in again. He showed us a couple of beautiful beaches and rock formations before we stopped for lunch at a resort on the Blue Lagoon.

Despite the weather, we were impressed by the cleanliness of the town. Signs were posted warning of an anti-littering law, which we had never seen here before, and we even saw a recycling bin. The people seemed more easy-going and the streets were a lot less chaotic. The air was fresh, if a little dampish.

We may come back and stay awhile. Surely it is not really rainy season in the north yet.

W

Resort Life

There is a beautiful beach on the west side of the northern tip of the Philippines. On this beach is a gorgeous resort, with well-appointed rooms and individual little family “casas” with private pools. This resort is well maintained and has a staff that is eager to please and will go that extra step to keep guests happy. The restaurant has a menu of good local foods and the kitchen does a great job in cooking those dishes. There is an infinity pool and free WiFi anywhere on the grounds.

We are not in that resort.  We are two resorts down, on the same beach.

We stay in a slightly rustic cabin with wood floors, ceiling, and walls. The first day here we had to get them to fix the little bar fridge. The second day we called them to turn on the hot water. We have armed guards at the road and dogs wandering the grounds. In fact, the dogs wander everywhere, including past the front desk and into the dining area. The pool is closed for cleaning. We have seen only a few other guests here, but have learned that they have VIPs from Taiwan somewhere in the rooms. The main restaurant is off limits to us, and we are relegated to using the coffee house for meals while the buffets are reserved for the special people.

We are not too offended. While the security at the road of the resort is heavy, the beach access is perfectly open and clear. We've spent hours in the deck house on the beach enjoying the peaceful views and cool breezes of the ocean. There is no one else from our resort using this part of the beach, so it is almost a private heaven. Coral rocks at the near end of the beach contain tidal pools with colourful fish and an occasional eel.

We have been to the markets in the nearby towns and have picked up lots of fresh fruits for breakfast. We now have a working fridge that we can use for drinks. And after being refused at the restaurant the first time, we have been walking the one kilometer down the beach to the gorgeous resort with the good food for dinner.

The beach between the resorts is used daily by fishermen. They belong to a large fishing community that lives just off the beach. The entire family seems to spend the day at the beach with them. As well, there are more than 20 dogs that belong to this community that wander at will along the sand. The fishermen go out in 20’ outriggers or on flat wooden boats that they stand on and paddle like surf boarders. Their children run down to the end of the beach with small fishing spears and try to catch fish off the rocks. And when the bigger wooden boats come in with their nets, everyone lends a hand trying to pull them in, the kids doing their best to get as wet as possible while doing so. Who needs TV for entertainment?

We haven't been swimming a lot, even though the water is warm and so clear that I can see my feet when standing in neck deep water. We are in a large bay, so the waves are normally gentle at the shore and we often walk along the beach. It is a perfect place to relax, and enjoy resort life. We are only here for two weeks, and when we leave, we will be looking for places where we can have our own kitchen.

We can only take so much of this resort life.

W

White Woman

The Filipino people are hardworking and friendly and generally honest. It has been a delight to interact with them because their English is very good. When they see a Caucasian, they smile and are eager to talk to you.
As you move out of the larger centers and into more rural and small town areas, white people are more rare and therefore cause more excitement. Little children are fascinated by me, and will stop in the road to watch me go by. These three scamps burst into giggles when I turned the camera on them. I wish I could have taken a picture of the little girl on the bus who stopped dead by my seat and wouldn't let her mother take her any farther until she had looked her fill.



Once I was inside a market stall getting my nails done when one young man, maybe 20 years old, wanted to take a picture of me. He said I was the first north american he's seen that wasn't on TV. I'm not sure I'm a good example, but I gamely smiled for his cellphone. That was the first one. A week later while we were sightseeing near a very old church, several young ladies came up to me, smiled, and politely asked if they could have their picture taken with me. It was such a lark, I got hubby to take one, too.




Vendors and shopkeepers target me and will call out "madam!" trying to get my attention. I certainly don't have to try very hard to get service. In fact, I have to be very careful about nodding my head when I meet people in the street because if they are selling something they assume that I've signaled to them and will come running with their wares. I hope I don't spend so much time here that I get used to being treated like a celebrity.



The downside is that there is always the odd person out to get what they can. While most vendors and service suppliers deal honestly with me, or at least don't obviously jack up the prices, there will be a couple that try to get more than their share. It's unfortunate, but a fact of life. It is harder to understand in the children. Nearer the large cities and tourist areas, a few will approach, and hold our their hands asking for a "gift". I just look puzzled, and let hubby deal with them. I always was a pale faced coward.

W

Public Transit

Public transit, also known as living dangerously, is very accessible in the Philippines.

We decided against renting our own vehicle after watching the traffic patterns in this country. Rules here are supposed to be the same as what we know, but observation disputes that fact.  Traffic lights are few and far between, even in the big cities. Stop signs are non-existent. Major intersections are bumper to bumper all the time, with vehicles from all sides barely slowing down before joining the mass of machinery. Right of way appears to be given to the one in the front, so of course everyone tries to be the one in the front. Politeness literally gets you nowhere. Every inch is taken up, and there is not much air between vehicles.  We are amazed that we haven’t seen many cars with dents or scratches; they come so close to each other. Horns are high-pitched and used frequently, usually to let you know they are coming, and fast. Road signs and other methods of speed reduction are ignored. In order to get traffic to slow down for school areas, locals put up barriers in the road.  This appears to just compress the two lanes of traffic into one.

Walking is not an option. We hired a ride just to cross the street in one city. There are cross walks, but drivers do not stop for them, or for the humans using them. Or maybe they just assume humans should get the same personal space as other vehicles do, which is very little. Either way, we didn’t take the chance.

Buses are very affordable. They can be flagged down at any spot on the road and will drop you anywhere along the route you want to stop. Some are air-conditioned, and most have TVs in the front for entertainment. This is not frivolous. It takes many hours to travel just a couple of hundred kilometers. The better buses even have WiFi access, but none have  bathrooms. Often vendors will jump on to the bus to sell food, as the very short rest stops are only every 3 hours or so.

Smaller than the buses, Jeepneys are used between closer towns and cities. They cost slightly more than buses, but will run more frequently. Each jeepney is decorated lavishly, sometimes painted or polished, and always named.  The dashboards are covered in bobble head toys, fake flowers, and usually a religious memento or cross. There are two benches in the back where they can fit up to 20 Filipino customers, and a bar along the ceiling to hold on to. A North American customer takes up a lot more space.

For short and local rides, entrepreneurs have developed the tricycle. This is a motorcycle with a one-wheeled cart attached to the side of it. Please note that they can drive these things while wearing flip-flops.  Hubby and I can barely squeeze into the seating area, but we have seen up to 6 riders on one. They hang off the back and even sit behind the driver. These are very vulnerable machines, but the drivers challenge the trucks and buses on the roads and intersections as if they are in tanks. We even took a ride in one before sunrise one morning, and were shocked to find that the vehicle had no front or back lights!

We survived, but recognized that we were living dangerously.

W

Another World

I am discovering that we are spoiled in North America.

Getting to the Philippines took 23 hours in the air, and another 5 in airports waiting for the next flight.  I was lucky. My travel agent, hubby, planned it so that there were no long lay-overs. But with every new leg, there were noticeable changes. Line-ups became a little more chaotic, people less polite. Personal space became non-existent. Security personnel were more evident, and obviously well-armed. Public washrooms did not always have all the amenities. Toilet paper was getting rarer, and one place didn't even have toilet seats.

It was like we had stepped back 50 years.  The van we rode in had no seat belts, nor any car seat for the 2 year old that traveled out of Manila with us. At curbside the noise and emissions from the solid mass of vehicles was thick. Proper exhaust systems seem rare. Vehicles ran the gamut from buses and trucks to motorcycles with side carts and bicycles, all fighting for the same space and in the same lane. Traffic police did their best to control the chaos, but despite the gun strapped to their side, very few paid any attention to them.

It is less than 150km from Manila to our first stop, but it took more than 4 hours to get there.  It was the middle of the night so even though traffic was light once we were outside of the city, there were still trucks and small motorcycles and the odd goat to go around. And if we moan about the summer construction on the roadways in Canada, consider the countries where summer is all year round.

Even after midnight, it was very warm.  After the long hours of travelling, we were glad to get to the house we were staying in. The larger houses here are made of cement with large windows. The windows have decorative grating and shutters, but no screens. The idea is to keep the heavy rains out, not insects or geckos. There is running water, but not everyone has hot water. Water can be heated for bathing, but I preferred the refreshing coolness. The water certainly isn't cold, and if it is left in a bucket for the afternoon, it can actually be tepid.

We stayed in a small town that has a market just around the corner from us. The market is in a large building which is subdivided inside into many stalls. The vendors sell absolutely anything. There is a section with fruit and vegetables, right beside the meat vendors. Meat is sold either alive or not. The meat that wasn't still walking or swimming was also not covered. Other stalls sold footwear, clothing, almost anything you could imagine. Around the outside of the market building were small stores and businesses. Altogether, a very busy place.

In fact, from what I've seen so far, the whole country is a busy and crowded place. There is little space left for homes that I can see, and traffic is constant and overwhelming. The lush growth and beautiful flowers of the countryside are covered in the dust and noise from the roads. I'm hoping we can find roads less traveled on our journey around these islands.

Despite how it sounds, I’m not homesick yet. There’s too much to see.

 W

Ontario

You may have noticed that I haven’t written since we came back to our home province.  It’s not that Ontario is boring, just that we’ve been overwhelmed by our social life here. On our long trip around Canada and the US, we’ve spent time with far-flung family, visited distant old friends and made several new ones. But we also spent many days and even weeks on the road disconnected, with only a weekly phone call to our daughters. We were certainly never lonely, having an abundance of new places to explore and new things to try. We reached out to touch our family and friends through postcards, Facebook, and of course our blog.

Once we parked our trailer in Kingston, where my family is located, we joyfully gave and attended several family dinners, catching up on old news and new developments.  But that wasn’t all.

The first two weeks in Kingston we hosted our young granddaughters at the campground. This place is great for children. There is an active duck pond – small ducklings included – and peacocks that roam the grounds. A swimming pool, beach, and playground kept the kiddies’ energy level moderate, and we threw in an occasional hike up the nearby hill when necessary. Expending the children’s energy was such a good plan, but it seemed that I was using a lot more than they were! They were looking for more to do even after I was drained and draped over a lawn chair.

After school started, my sister and brother-in-law took us out on their sailboat for a few days to tour the Thousand Islands in the St. Laurence River. As neither hubby nor I had sailed before, casting off was exciting. But what a thrill when the sail went up! With the wind behind us and the motor silenced, it was a gentle ride to our first moorage. In the evening, the wind became stronger, rocking the boat all night. We were quite comfortable with the motion and slept well, not even noticing when our hosts popped up on deck to check that the anchor held. The next two nights we sheltered in among small islands. We all went for walks on islands set aside as part of a National Park, and my sister and I swam in the clear water off the boat. We spent peaceful evenings on the deck and blew the conch shell at sundown. What bliss! This was just like being in our trailer, but on water instead of wheels. 

Coming home, we had a stiff cross wind. I would love to say that we just skimmed over the waves with the sail up. The reality is that the waves were 6 feet high, causing a bit of a pitch and roll.  The sail was indeed up and, billowed out with the wind, it gave a decided slant to the deck. Any anxiety from this on my part was alleviated by the smile on the face of our captain, as he faced the challenge of each wave with undisguised pleasure. All too soon the ride ended, and we had to return to our land locked trailer.

The rest of the time we have been spending with our family and daughters nearby, and catching up on medical and dental appointments. Admiring the lovely fall colours during our drives and hikes.  But now there is a chill in the air that we just aren't used to anymore. We are dragging out the thick hoodies to wear and turning on the electric heaters at night. We even had to clean out the back of the truck to find the ice scraper we brought with us! So it seems it's time to plan our next travel segment. After spending a year and a half finding new corners and roads in this country that we love and our neighbor to the south , it is time to explore my adopted-by-marriage homeland: the Philippines.

It’s a certainty that it won’t be boring.

W

Water Witch

What a difference state lines make. From the lush green crops and grass in North Dakota and Minnesota to the brown, crunchy groundcover in southern Wisconsin.  Over the miles, the “elephant eye” corn shrivelled to knee high yellow stalks.  After experiencing the record rainfall in the west while we were there, we are now witnessing the results of the record drought around the Great Lakes.

Guess I should have come home sooner. The rain that wouldn’t leave us alone along the west coast must have just sucked all the moisture away from the east. Since it followed me all that way, surely it would have followed me home.

The population also changes dramatically over those state lines.  Once we hit Illinois the traffic was heavier, the cities larger, and the people not quite as friendly nor as trusting.  We had bought fresh corn from a roadside stand in Minnesota, on the honour system. Nobody was at the stand, just a box to put the money in and a sign saying how much.  The regional park where we stayed on the St. Croix River was clean and very well tended, and our neighbors in the campground were friendly. Yet despite the Illinois State Park having signs everywhere reminding us that alcohol was prohibited, we picked up at least a full case of beer bottles in the bushes around the trailer.  This particular campground was very noisy, but not because of the drunken campers.  Instead it was the few cicadas in the trees that could put boxes full of crickets to shame. 

 But while the campground wasn’t the best, the hiking trails of the park were superb.  Wide trails meandered in and around canyons that had been eroded from the sandstone hills along the Illinois River.

We walked along the river and looked up at the canyon walls, and then climbed a few hundred stairs to the top of the bluffs, and looked down into them.

We left Illinois early in the day, giving Chicago a wide berth and just scratching the top of Indiana before landing in Michigan. The fields around us were still dry, even though there were lots of small lakes all around, and rain clouds in the sky. This was our last American campground for this trip, and it was lovely, with large, open sites.  Our spot was near a shallow lake that was crowded with waterlilies, herons, and a friendly family of swans.  Oh yeah, and bass boats, too, pushing through the weeds in search of the big one.  Fishing was the one thing hubby didn’t get to do on this foray into the States. But he doesn’t stop talking about how long he has before trout season closes in Ontario.

We hit a new record crossing the border back into Canada.  This time we were only asked two questions, how long did we stay and the value of goods we brought back. A quick “bye”, and we were gone. You just never know what you are going to encounter at the border.  Crossing into the States at North Dakota was the first time customs agents had entered our trailer for a quick look around. It was a small crossing, and not very busy, so we didn’t even have to pull over. Just opened up where we sat so they could go inside. Not that we had much. We had just spent some weeks at our daughter’s place and so our food stash was depleted. Why pick up more when we were heading for farm country? The fresh stuff was ahead of us.

So now we are where we started 9 months ago to the day, at CanAm RV in London. After more than 20,000 kms  it’s time to get things looked at on the trailer, and future plans for it decided. It was “too big” when we started, but now we don’t know where we would put stuff if we went any smaller. So it might just be a matter of fixing and refurbishing what we have.

And making sure it’s waterproof. 

W

Weather or Not

I'll bet there’s a long lineup for the job of weather forecaster in Saskatchewan.  It’s a bonus career, kinda like a teenager testing mattresses as a day job. If you look out the window, you can see the weather that will be there tomorrow. Forget about the dog that ran away 4 days ago, see that tornado in Kansas?

You can also guarantee that there will be strong winds that day, the only question is, from which direction? There’s a 25% chance of getting that right. Try matching that forecasting in Ontario.  The flat land and encircling horizon also gives a heart-stopping show when lightning storms decide to move in from the outer fringes.  You can see it coming for miles, and can predict when to move inside. At least, I did. The local residents all went outside to watch. Looking surprised when I offered to watch from the window. And across the room.

After following the Pacific coast and enjoying the delights of the glacial Rockies, I found there was a shortage of natural water in the southern part of our prairie province. Man-made ponds, easily identified by their precise rectangular shapes, are found on most homesteads but lakes are in short supply. But the pleasure one gets from watching waves ripple and dance with sunlight is not gone. Wheat fields in the constant wind have the same mesmerizing effect. The changing green on the crops as the wind creates ripples is exactly like the movement of the water on a lake. And I’ve been told that the rustle of the young wheat, or the rattle when it's golden and ripe, is as soothing as the rush of waves on a shore.

This rural peace is shattered by the now common sights of oil rigs, looking like big grasshoppers bobbing up and down in the fields, sucking blood from under the earth. This is the new skyline of Saskatchewan, replacing the iconic sight of wooden grain silos, which are becoming rare and seen only in the smaller communities. And is in dramatic contrast to North Dakota, where the wind turbines are king. Hard to say which is the greater evil.

Moving out of Saskatchewan and into North Dakota was a financial decision. With gas over the border averaging 90 cents a litre and campgrounds at half the cost, poor retirees on a fixed income can scarcely afford to be patriotic. The border agents don’t seem to care when we come and go, and since our plans are to stay in Ontario for the winter we figured we could get away with an extra trip into capitalism.

In North Dakota, the flat horizon changed subtly, with rivers branching out creating crowsfeet on the landscape and buttes sticking up like headless shoulders. It became cattle country with wheat only in the flat river valleys. Pronghorn antelope were replaced by an occasional deer, and small herds of buffalo protected by fences.

We visited the Buffalo Museum, and found it very sad that these animals that had once roamed in herds of thousands were reduced so dramatically by the introduction of Europeans and their guns.  Invasive species, indeed.

Our home in North Dakota was outside of Valley City, also known as the city of bridges.

We did a walk-about around town, enjoying the smaller bridges that the people are so proud of.  This  one is a footbridge leading to the State Teacher's College. It was repaired and reinforced in the '60s when a student tried to drive over it in his parents' car.

Not only are there several pretty road and foot bridges over the winding Sheyenne River inside the town, but because it is in a deep valley, the railroad built a bridge right over top of it!

Unfortunately, we were driving. Even with all the bridges in town, there was only one road up to the campgrounds. And it was under construction - or destruction, depending on how you look at it.

As a result, we did not do a lot of other sightseeing in the area. The one place we did stop at was called Frontier Village. Hubby got himself a new leather Stetson and we watched a stagecoach roll by.

After dragging the Airstream back through the mud of construction, we crossed the state border into the farmlands of Minnesota.  Corn, sunflowers, all kinds of crops spread out on both sides of the highway.  Even the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul are surrounded by fields instead of suburbs. We stayed on the far east side of the state, right beside the St. Croix River that flows down from the nose of Lake Superior and marks the border with Wisconsin.

Again, our campground was bordered by cornfields – to the delight of the doe and two fawns that visited on an early morning. We also saw dozens of wild turkeys and a peregrine falcon family. A very peaceful spot indeed that we decide to extend our stay for a few days.

Perfect to enjoy the hot and sunny weather we're having.

W

Summer, finally

We came out of the mountains into rolling hills and then onto the plains.  The clouds got left behind with the tall peaks.  Sun and warm temperatures welcomed us with open arms.  So did the bugs.  Very enthusiastically.  They could see my pale, and finally uncovered, skin for miles.

Now that we were in Alberta, we were obviously in farming territory, as the cattle and the fields stretched for miles from the highway.





We spent Canada Day in a small place attached to an amusement park. It was full of kids and bugs and surrounded by open fields. Unlike the Americans who have their flags fluttering over many of their motor homes and trailers, regardless of the time of year, we were the only ones to fly the Canadian flag at this park. We kept it up for the full time we were there, the only celebration of Canada Day we were given. Because of the proximity to a small airport, no fireworks were allowed to be set off in the park.




Although we never found a stetson that we liked in Texas, hubby saw a cowboy hat here in Calgary that was perfect.  It even matched his bermuda shirt!

We visited Calgary during pre-Stampede week. It is a very walkable place, with statues and sculptures placed all around the downtown.  And it was fun to watch the Stampede preparations going on. They were putting up rustic pine fencing and bales of hay around the numerous outdoor pubs and cafes. It would have been an experience to stay for the main event, but with 1.2 million people expected to attend, we didn't think they'd miss two.

Our next stop-over was up by Edmonton, picked so that we could visit old friends that had been so far away when we were chained to a house and job, but accessible now that we are on wheels. It's always great to catch up.

Our daughter drove up to spend several days with us. She and her daddy paddled the North Saskatchewan River that flows past the campground. It was no hardship for me to run into Edmonton to pick them up at the other end of the one-way trip, but it was a little confusing. Very few streets in that city go right down to the river. And when the paddlers landed they really had no idea where they were. Asking questions of the locals got one misleading direction and had me parking at the wrong spot. But we connected in the end and an enjoyable day was had by all.

The last place we stayed in Alberta was called Ol' MacDonald's. It was kid heaven. The friends we were visiting had children and it was a perfect spot for them. There is a beach, a shallow lake for wading, a petting zoo, several playgrounds, hayrides, and a kiddie train.  We only stayed 3 nights, and the weather was hot and sunny the whole time.

Then it was back on the road again, heading towards Saskatchewan. Towards flat lands and straight roads.  Towards small towns that you can see coming long before you even get close to them. Towards the open fields of green and brilliant yellow canola punctuated by oil rigs.

Also towards road construction.  If we had known they were filling the road cracks with fresh tar on our route, we would have gone a different way. Despite the mud flaps on the truck, our trailer got splattered and the hubby got upset.

We stopped at the Buffalo Rock on our way.  This is a huge rock that attracted the attention of the buffalo herds back in the day. They would walk around and around, rubbing their itchy hides on it, creating a depression in the ground that it sits on and rubbing the rock smooth in spots.  Just one of the fascinating bits of trivia we come across while we are travelling.





So now we are parked on the curb in front of our daughter's house. The plan had been to park in her driveway, but renovations being done next door has prevented that, so, for the moment, we are kicked to the curb.

It's a comfortable spot, on a wide avenue in a quiet part of town. A place to be out of the mosquitoes that terrorize this area.  Ahhh, summer.

W

Mountain Highs

We did it. We towed a 34', triple axle trailer with our little 1500cc Chev Avalanche through the mountains. Not just any mountains, but the Canadian Rockies - through Rogers and Kicking Horse Pass, to be exact.




For sure, we did not go as fast as those BC licenced full-ton duallys pulling their 5th wheels at 110kph, and yes, our Avalanche was a little warm when we got to the top. But when we unhook to go into town or to bop around sightseeing, we sure are glad for the better gas mileage that we get from our little truck than the mighty 2500 or the 3500cc's.




Our first mountain pass just before Revelstoke was rather tame. It was the site of the last spike for CP Rail, and they have a little park there commemorating it. Crossing the Columbia River again, (we crossed it once  coming out of Oregon) we got to the town of Revelstoke, sitting in a beautiful valley. Snow capped peaks were all around us. Our campground was beside a small lake, actually just a little more than a big pond. The best thing about this lake was that it was stocked with big rainbow trout. Not that we caught any while we were there. But the osprey and bald eagles nesting close by caught a few, and we were able to watch.

It was a pretty wet week, in fact a wet spring judging by the overflowing banks of the rivers, so we spent time touring the hydro dam and the railway museum. The railroad is a big part of the history up here. Trains were in this area before roads, and the towns grew around these supply lines. We also drove up to Glacier National Park and then took a trip down to the hot springs. Finally when the weather cleared we hiked part of Revelstoke Mountain and paddled the pond.

Then, under full sunshine, we packed up and headed up to the higher mountain passes. We passed mountains with tops of bare and jagged rock and others covered by snow and glaciers. We praised our little Avalanche and called it baby names as it chugged up the big hills.  And when we got to the other side of those mountains, we found rain again.




We also found Lake Louise. A beautiful lake of a cloudy green colour, with a glacier on the end. Another tick off the old bucket list: we paddled it down to the end and back. It was quite busy with tourists, even on a wet Tuesday. The walkway on the side of the lake had a steady stream of people, and we could see the camera flashes going off even at the far end of the lake.









The tiny village of Lake Louise, and in fact Hwy 1 as well, happens to be built right on a wildlife corridor.
They have managed to reduce the number of animal collisions on the road by erecting a fence all along the highway. And then they created these really great wildlife "overpasses" as well as underpasses so that wildlife movement isn't limited. 








Except that the village of Lake Louise is inside the fence with the bears and such. Since they can't fence off the inhabitants of the village, they fenced right up to the entrance road and added a cattle guard. This keeps the animals off the main road, but not out of the downtown.


We are in a trailer campground right in the village that is specific for hard sided trailers. No tent trailers or pop-ups allowed. All soft sided tents and trailers are in a different spot that is encircled by an electric fence. That is probably only for the peace of mind of the campers. The hiking trails and all walkways are frequented by bears, as evidenced by the scat all along them. Usually fresh.

Being that there was still lots of rain the first few days, we also took trips to Banff and Canmore (anyone remember "Mike, from Canmore"). Obviously, zipping down Hwy 1 from one town to the next, there's not much to see for wildlife because of the fencing. So on our way back, we took the Bow River Parkway, which runs parallel to Hwy 1, but on the other side of the Bow River, and thus inside the fencing. Much slower, but way more satisfying. We got to see a mother grizzly and her 3 cubs munching on dandelions, a couple of elk grazing in a meadow, and a string of falls in the Johnson River Canyon.

Since that was so much fun, we decided to drive the Icefields Parkway up to Jasper. This parkway is also open to wildlife and we saw a lot of it. In between magnificent views of jagged, snow capped mountains with blue glaciers hanging off its cliffs, we saw herds of big horn sheep, a few black bears, and one huge grizzly ambling by the roadside. In park terms, these viewings usually caused "bear jams", where motorists will stop at the side of the road when they see an animal. The cars coming behind or towards them will also stop, sometimes in the middle of the road blocking it completely. It gets worse when people jump out of their cars and go running over to take a really close picture. Not always a good idea when it's a bear.

Our last day in Banff National Park was cool and wet. How unusual. But we took the gondola up to the peak of the ski hill near the village anyway, despite the fresh snow that we could see up there. With the wind blowing, it was cold enough to require our winter coats. Good thing we brought them on this "warm weather only" trip. It pays to be prepared. The view was amazing. We could look over the endless mountains and down at Lake Louise, its green colour still startling at that distance.

There were a few hikes and such that we would have done if we'd stayed longer. Maybe that's something we can come back to do. Meanwhile, it's time to pack up our poor beleaguered SUV and point it east, out of the mountains and those big old trucks that show it up on the hills.


We don't want it to get an inferiority complex.

W