Provincial Parks

Rushing to Find the River, No Thunder in Thunder Bay, and a Lying Giant

uniquelytheoLeave a comment

It was July 9th and I needed to be up and organized and hoped to hit the road by 9:30 as Tuesday was a travel day. The screeching of the crows and/or vultures made sure that I would catapult myself out of the tent by 7:00 am. I have achieved some level of proficiency by laying out all of the things for my oatmeal concoction and coffee in the back of the car (would prefer the picnic table but alas the park rangers are a bit squeamish about attracting bears to one’s tent site.) Once up, all I need to do is heat water! So breaking camp is also getting easier and more organized, assuming I could stay focused while swatting mosquitos all of the time. These are the moments when I begin to understand the preference for an RV’s (and if you invite me on trip in your RV I will not decline!).

Today’s drive would again mostly be through the flatland of southern Manatoba. I had a few “hitch-hikers” that I had to deal with along the road— 3 massive bees and several mosquitos signed on to travel to Ontario with me. The challenge is how to pass the time while appreciating the surrounds but not finding much differentiation mile upon mile.  I listen to podcasts but not being of a generation that grew up with earbuds or anything other than AM radio while traveling in the car, I can get very weary of constantly having auditory stimulation. But the miles clicked on by and by 2:45 ish when I stopped to get some gas, about 90 miles from my destination, my car would not start.  Now the screen said my car was running but clearly it was not.  It would shift gears but go nowhere.  The parking brake would not release.  After numerous attempts to get it on the move, I gave up and called AAA. After about 15 minutes on the phone a tow truck was going to pick me up and take me to Kenora Ontario, the town closest to where I was to camp.  I said to the agent “Before we hang up, let me try to start it again.”  Why hadn’t I trusted that “Lady Spitfire” could fix herself.  It started right up so I cancelled the tow but was on edge the rest of the trip and did not turn the car off until I was at my campsite. at Rushing River Provincial Park.

I lucked out again with the campsite. It is a wooded unserviced site in a tent only area with a perfect spot to put my tent on a bluff overlooking Dogtooth Lake. Traveling east has brought warmer temperatures but the- mid 80’s wasn’t bad given my at home Oregon temperatures between 100-111 this past week. Another upside was that there were fewer flying critters to inject their venom. No slapping myself silly tonight. The downside was I discovered that the loo servicing our circle of sites was probably one of the worst I have ever come across in a campground. Of course I needed to befriend my trusty Coleman stove yet again but I was having no inclination whatsoever to prepare anything beyond the basic “just add water” or “dunk in boiling water” food.

I have entered into a new era of my camping rituals or rather non-rituals. I have foregone the “traditional” nightly campfire so far on this trip. One of these nights I will feel motivated but probably not a good plan for me to be chopping the purchased logs into more burnable sizes. Just sitting and immersing myself in the sounds of nature has been quite satisfying. Somewhat related to campfires is a silliness moment when at the last couple of campgrounds I would hear what I thought were people playing paddle ball well into the evening. I finally dawned on me that it was the Paul Bunyans in the camp thwacking at wood for their ritual fire. It was uncanny how it sounded just like the crack of the paddleball. Sitting, gazing at the lake and the sitting sun was enough to slake my thirst for calmness and it colored down nicely to a pleasant 70 degrees for sleeping.

What a delight it was to awaken, unzip the front “window” of my tent and see a shimmering lake.  I  welcomed this day off from driving but decided I needed to go into the closest town, Kenora,  to make some phone calls etc and would thus need better cell service that the almost nothing service here at the camp. But 12 mile is not 300 miles and I was hoping to send some emails as well… eventually I realized I was dawdling away the day in an ordinary anywhere USA or Canada, I headed back as I wanted to do a hike to finally have an up close encounter with the Rushing River. Once back at the Campground, I found the trailhead and started off on this tripping root and muddy path adventure. It had been a while since I had to very cautiously watch every footfall so as not to either slide flat on my derriere in the mud or fall flat on my face with the toe of my shoe attached to a protruding root…all the while flapping my hat around to ward of the mosquitos. Great hike!


I am sure by now some of my readers must wonder about my sanity and have yet to figure out how any of what I describe could be enjoyable or why I would even voluntarily choose to do this. There is something so empowering for me in both the physicality of the endeavor but also being so in touch with the natural world with all its delights and annoyances. It is the real world I thrive in not the virtual world. Since I was very young I loved being physical and for many years I lost that aspect of myself. As a kid I climbed trees and scooped up pollywogs from a pond behind our property. I embraced scouting and earned just about every badge there was that had to do with the outdoors and natural world. I lost my way for many years and I found it again by signing up for a three week Outward Bound. That awakened the long dormant side of myself that craved the outdoors.

So I cautiously stepped over the roots and up the steps and over the boardwalks to see and hear the power of the water that the campground was named for: It indeed was a “rushing river. ” Satisfied I returned to my campsite and embraced the regular routine of cooking, organizing, writing and relaxing lakeside. A perfect end to the day was laying on my cot peering out of the window of my tent drinking in the delicious hues of a lovely sunset.

The following day was a travel day. I really hated leaving this large quiet private lakeside campsite (except for of course the very rank outdoor privies servicing this area but the Sleeping Giant awaited my arrival so I was on my way up through Thunder Bay Ontario to Sleeping Giant Provincial Park and the Marie Louise Lake Campground. Much of the terrain through Ontario appeared to be bog and marshland. The trees reminded me of the stunted evergreens on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska. I was really looking for to another good camping experience and had reserved another lakeside spot. I somehow had romanticized this park for no logical reason what-so-ever other than the name Thunder Bay intrigued me and I imagined a quaint town up on Lake Superior and the campground would be beautifully forested and … Much to my chagrin, upon arriving at my campsite I was quite dismayed. It was high on a ridge and though “lakeside” it would involve bushwacking down the steep forested hill to get to the lake. The site was narrow (I could hear the whole conversation my neighbors across the road were having in their tent.) and in full sun.

The best part though was that it was beloved by hundreds of tiny black flies (buffalo gnats) which were intent on biting me around my neck and ears and hairline.  With a lot of flicking, slapping, fanning, and swatting I managed to get camp set up though suffering several nasty little bites on my neck and behind my ears.. The only cell service was accessible down by the lake. I decided not to bush-wack down but took the car instead.

I sent a few text and enjoyed the cool breeze and mostly freedom from the vicious insect world up yonder. I made a very impromptu but wise decision to only spend one night in this fly infested space and made a motel reservation in Thunder Bay for the next evening. As soon as it was cool enough I retreated into my tent for the evening feeling a bit despondent and quite itchy. The view was less than stellar. What a difference a day and 300 miles can make.

Since I had the campsite for two nights I did not have to break camp but headed out early for the one hike I wanted to do which was to visit the Sea Lion Trail. It was a 1.5 mile round trip from Kabeyan Trail Parking lot and considered a moderate hike but took me to an overlook of the Sea Lion Arch on Lake Superior. Though the trail was relatively easy, and thus relatively crowded, it still had a couple steeper bits and loose rocks, roots, and bugs! My imagination could not conjure up a sea lion in the rock formation but I was delighted to have made the trek to see this rock layer cake.

Following the loop road and definitely the end of the road for any cars wishing to travel further south, I stopped at Silver Lake at the only store I saw on the whole peninsula. It was named for the extracting of silver from the area in the mid 1800’s. I then headed on back to extricate my belongings from Marie Louise! I would definitely give her a 1 star out of 10 though admittedly I did see some very nice lakeside campsites (but perhaps they also had bug swarms to accompany them).

On the way out I stopped at Marie Louise Lake to get a better picture of the “Sleeping Giant” for whom this park was named. He sleeps on his back with arms folded on his chest. and is a massive formation of mesas and sills.

Then on the way out I spotted a road called Thunder Bay Lookout Road and of course made a sharp left to access it. The sign warned of the very steep hills, its narrowness, and of course bumps and ruts, potholes and washboards and in general serving up any other bone jarring road irregularities. Just my kind of road though I must add that I was glad to have a trail ready four wheel drive vehicle. The Thunder Bay lookout has a platform that juts out over the side of the cliff with an unobstructed view of Thunder Bay and Lake Superior. My legs got quite shaky and wobbly as I walked out onto the platform seeing nothing beneath me though it would probably be a softer landing if it extended out over the water should it give way rather than the jutting rocks below.

It was finally on to Thunder Bay. My primary impression of Thunder Bay, which is a hub of commerce with a deep water port, was that it appeared very utilitarian. It very much reminded me of cities like Anchorage and Fairbanks Alaska with buildings being more functional than architecturally appealing with very many structures looking like warehouses. I am sure some of this relates to the massive amounts of snow these cities get. I did not give it much of a chance because I was happy to go straight to my motel ( with a very surly desk clerk) and then get a bite to eat. I saw a Pizza Hut across the street and thought perhaps I would get something there but their dining room was closed and I did not want carryout. There was nice looking Chinese restaurant next door to that and the parking lot was crowded so I thought it might be a good choice. NOT. It was the worst Chinese food I have ever had. I would not even be able to describe what I was eating in the egg roll and entree. So even though I was quite glad to be out of the swarm of black flies, I wasn’t exactly enlivened by the thunder of Thunder Bay .

The next morning my major task was to get an oil change for my car and have it checked out after the incident a few days ago. The good news was that everything looked fine but the lube man kept upselling me on all different services I might want. So to be on the safe side I did have a few things done and was then on my merry way, heading south to the USA and Duluth.

    Impounded Buffalo, Adirondack Red Chairs, and Rape Seed

    uniquelytheo3 Comments

    I would not call it “glamping” but,  since I had not been camping in my tent,  it was an easier out the door and on the road. I was heading to Buffalo Pound Provincial Park in Saskatchewan. The route  was on the Trans Canada Highway , a four lane divided highway and it might be described succinctly as flat , flatter and FLATTEST and straight ahead through grassland prairie. The trip ranged through an area of scenic rolling hills, croplands, and pasture land. The most stunning part of this  drive was the sprawling fields of Oilseed Rape – a major source of canola oil.  These “canola” fields were at peak bright yellow bloom and their brilliance was captivating. Interspersed with these  dazzling fields were such crops as kale and other leafy vegetables that most Americans don’t consume. 

    I headed north east towards Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan through even flatter land. This time I won at craps. I was more than pleased with the campsite on Shady Lane that I had selected online. This lake front site actually was fronting a lake! It had dense foliage between the adjacent sites and nothing across from it to compromise one’s “privacy” (as if there really is such a thing in a public park). I merrily set up my tent under a great shade tree, located the water sources and bathrooms, cooked my meal and then sat lakeside reading and writing. Everything felt right in my world.

    I awoke to bird-song – the chirps and trill announcing a new day. I peaked out of the tent and could see dawn was breaking and it was not yet 4:50 am. I thanked the birds for their lovely chatter and hunkered back down into my sleeping bag to get a couple more hours sleep.

    This is one of those parks that tries to have a little bit of everything to suit everyone’s tastes. If the lake isn’t enough there is a heated pool. If hiking isn’t enough there is mini-golf or an 18 hole disc golf course, fat bike trails, mountain bike trails and boating, fishing, canoeing and kayaking for the more adventurous, or perhaps you will just be sitting inside an air conditioned RV equipped with ones own personal satellite dish. I will stick to hiking.

    The family ‘sillies’ of the previous day regarding the park name Buffalo Pound:: “Is this where all the unlicensed buffalo wait until their owners come to spring them from jail? “asked Tasia or “Buffalos are better seen than herd!” according to Jamie. I thus joked that my goal the following day was to search out the buffalo pound though actually having no clue that there was a live buffalo herd in the park. This park was used by First Nation to coral bison and bison were reintroduced to the park in 1972. Today there is a good sized captive herd in a paddock today but given their range, the odds are not usually good that they will be in the paddock or in a visible spot on the range.

    I opted to hike the Nicolle Flats Nature Area and as I was driving to the far end of the park I began to see signs for bison range so I followed the “bread crumbs” and drove a very rutty muddy road to reach a viewpoint. The odds were good this day. I was totally blown away as off in the distance on a hilltop I recognized that distinct humped shape of several adult bison and some juveniles. Though seen at a distance, I was astounded and elated and observed the bison for about half hour until they wandered out of sight. The only better odds would have been if a couple of those massive beasts had lumbered up to the closest fence and snorted at me. I continued on past a feeding area and headed out to hike the nature trail and the Nicole Flats Marsh boardwalk. It was partly cloudy, a pleasant 70 degree temperature and the landscape was a mosaic of rolling green hills, a riot of wildflowers, and wide open spaces.

    While relaxing back at the campgrounds  I found it amazing how much noisier it is on Saturday night.  The background noise was not exactly welcomed I am sure by most campers. I try do just observe things and behaviors and not judge , but definitely I was inept on this occasion and was quite irritated. One week-end reveler was revving his jet ski for at least 2 hours . This high- pitched  buzzing of the engine and the din of the machine smacking on the water was not my idea of background “music” for experiencing a  pleasant evening sitting lakeside. Before long though I was curling up in my tent having flicked of the third tick of the day. I have been feeling the crawlies ever since. When it was almost dark there were still speedboats roaring on the lake and to add to the cacophony, some, I imagine inebriated dudes, got in a foul mouthed shouting match. By now the campfire must have been blazing and the off keyed round of campfire songs began… I am coming to discover that parks with lakes, swimming and boating opportunities tend to definitely be more raucous that for example the US forest service campgrounds that offer few amenities other than what nature itself provides. The upside of the evening it did get quiet after 11:00 PM and I yet again slept soundly through the night. 

    I awoke to birdsong (it was quite melodious actually) again today but it was a reasonable hour of 7:00 am. I had the fleeting thought about being very loud and raucous, perhaps singing at the top of my lungs or honking the car horn to be a reveille for the evening revelers. Today was a travel day and I was pretty well organized so after coffee and breakfast while gazing at a calm quiet lake and contemplating todays agenda, I broke down the campsite and was on the road in quick order. It would end up being a somewhat tedious driving day. Flatness is definitely the defining feature. Though I can really appreciate the beauty of this mosaic of lush green and candescent yellow fields, southern Saskatchewan is predominantly vast prairies which are the northern most extension of the Great Plains, mega farms, and almost arrow straight roads. After about 250 miles, I was ready to be at Wasagaming Campground in Riding Mountain National Park in Manitoba. I was almost grateful for a rainstorm that moved in for the last fifty miles of the drive but of course dreading the possibility of setting up camp in a drizzle. The weather god smiled down on me and it was not raining there. Having observed the landscape in the area leading up to the park, it appeared that there had been an overabundance of precipitation had befallen this area of Manitoba.

    I kept pondering the name “Wasagaming Riding Mountain” as I saw no dramatic mountain to behold here upon approach. Who is riding or what is this mountain riding? Riding a bike, a Conestoga Wagon, a horse, a car ????Wasagaming is a Cree word which translates to “Riding Mountain” so that might explain its English name but why might the Cree have termed it that? It’s been hypothesized that riding horses through this rugged land was the best transportation so perhaps there is a connection. The altitude is stated to be 1640 feet (not exactly of what I envision as a real mountain altitude.) And, this mountain is not really a mountain (i.e. we picture high peaks) but an escarpment plateau -BUT it rises above the prairies creating a notable contrast when compared to the flatland around it. So I do not need to go on a scavenger hunt to find a mountain.

    After registering at the park and finding my campsite, I hopped out of my car and was greeted by a swarm of mosquitos and flies, another aftermath of a very wet season. The perfect spots for a tent were wet and muddy and even buggier than the stony RV pad. But stony pad it would be as I did not want to be crawling out of my tent into a mud slick. With the setup accomplished, having slapped myself silly warding off the skeeters, and dinner eaten, I plunked everything into the tent and did not emerge until the following morning, hence avoiding contracting some mosquito born illness.

    Now yet again, it was not particularly peaceful being in the great outdoors in Manitoba. A boisterous group a couple of sites down were engaging in some kind of card game I imagine. It ended up that about every minute the group would be erupting into a rollicking round of laughter. This went on for at least a couple of hours but switched off almost exactly at 11:00, the park’s regulation of quiet hours. A lot of what I observe is not a complaint as I often think isn’t it grand to see families and couples not glued to phones of screens and playing together! Of course it is difficult to be glued unless you are in an RV with a satellite dish as most Canadian and US National Parks do not have good cell service of any wi-fi at all.

    The following morning was a beautiful sunny 60 degree day, and it was already 8:30 Though there were a few mosquitos lurking about, it was quite pleasant sitting outside of my “escape from the insect world” tent and enjoying coffee and breakfast. I could see from the map that there appeared to be a town within the park with a significant number of retail establishment. That typically is not the case in US National Parks. That was the case in Cypress Hills and yet again here. There were several restaurants, cottages, lodges, private homes, ice cream emporiums, a micro brewery, bike rentals…. mini-golf, paddleball courts, playgrounds… note the large red Adirondack Chair in photo below. Over 400 Adirondack chairs have been placed in peaceful, breathtaking locations from coast to coast to coast in Canada to encourage people to rest, relax and discover the wonders Parks Canada has to offer. Ironically this is not exactly a breathtaking location.

    In so many ways it is helpful to have so many amenities and it can also make for an intense and expensive  family vacation. But it also speaks to our disconnection from nature  if we can’t   enjoying the magnificence of the natural world with its array of trees, flowers, geology, insects, wildlife …. move our bodies on our earth’s soil and rocks  in  a pair of of hiking boots and carrying a walking stick, or explore the nooks and crannies of the understory of a forest, or simply gaze at the magnificent around us … It saddens me  when none of this is nearly enough  and parks have to be turned into noisy motorized venues. 

    I headed out for a drive of the campground and hopefully a walk or hike around the Clearlake area and Wasagaming Townsite. The campground is a sprawling area  of 427 campsites with sites that have no amenities (mine) to electric, water and sewer hookups.  There are yurts, comfort cabins, micrOcubes and A-frame cabins…but needless to say I will almost always chooses the barest of services…I think I romanticize  the old Girl Scouting days and the primitive camping of Outward Bound. 

    It was a beautiful sunny 70 degree day and perfect for exploring the lake front and eventually the town.  Given the plethora of biting mosquitos,  I opted out of anything deep woods. But there is a lovely walking and bike path along the lake front and it was the perfect outing on this summer day. I have finally learned that every adventure does not have to be climbing a Mt. Everest. I clocked about 3 miles between the lakefront and cruising the town site and the only store I visited was the trading post that sold real unprepared food for a whopping price.  By the time I was back at camp it was 2:00 and lunch, reading, writing, reorganizing and dinner were in order. 

    The Taste of Elkwater, No-Itchy, and Not Quite Glamping

    uniquelytheoLeave a comment

    It is hard to describe the feeling  I was experiencing, sitting in my camp chair after a good night’s sleep, sipping my Starbuck’s Via coffee in this forested camp. Everything felt right with my world and I again had a strong sense of accomplishment after a paucity of  this kind of experience since my 2018 camping trip to Alaska. I was back doing one of the things that I so dearly love that got halted with the first round of COVID restrictions and  subsequent health concerns. But overhead there were rain clouds drifting on by and since  I was heading to Helena Montana today, it behooved me to get a move on and save the back pats for another time. So I finally after a breakfast of “camp oatmeal” I set about breaking down the camp which,  hands down,  was exponentially  easier than setting up. I was headed to Log Gulch Campground.

    Getting to Log Gulch Campground was a test of my  patience.  Once off the interstate there was about a 8 mile drive to reach the recreation area.  This road served up curves, hills, hairpin turns  and gravel the last 3 miles. All was well and good except within a couple of minutes, I was tailgating a black suburban towing an RV that I am sure he/she was terrified of driving on this road.  They hugged the middle of the road and drove 5-miles per hour clearly exercising extreme caution of  the third dimension. I was ready for my journey to end and the 35 minutes it took to go the last 8 miles was not gracefully endured.  I was quite glad no one could hear my name calling or ongoing derogatory banter. 

    As I discovered my site, what appeared on the map when making the reservation as lakefront was not quite the lakefront I had envisioned. In between my campsite and the lake was the road (this was on the map with beach on the other side.) But intermediary were day use pit toilets, the lake parking lot, garbage dumpsters and a pavilion for day use. In addition, this was a campground of wide open spaces with no buffer zone between sites, hence no privacy. My preference for camping has always been backcountry sites achieved through carrying a heavy load on my back up multiple switchbacks in the heat so this plopping down a tent in my reserved spot in the middle of a larger area that is loaded up with RV’s, children racing around on their bikes (YES) , teens racing around on their 4-wheelers (NO), many campfires … takes some adjusting to. It’s a happy feeling to see so many families and couples enjoying the great outdoors and retreating into their air conditioned homes on wheels at night, but it sometime’s just feels too busy and too public. and too comfortable. Am I masochistic?

    But my very public campsite ended up being a blessing and thus a reminder of the many interesting, kind and thoughtful people one might encounter. A young father saw me struggling with getting my tent up in the gusty winds and stopped to help me do it. A retiree saw me hitting my Coleman Stove with a rubber mallet (when I could not figure what else to do) and came to see if he could help (the mallet whop fixed it) … and many enjoyable conversations with strangers about where they are from or headed to, their dogs, etc. A hot meal now that the stove was working, a walk around the campgrounds and along the lakeshore rounded out the day.

    I awoke to the squawking of birds in the pine tree above my tent, hoping they were not decorating my new tent with avian excreta. It was around 7:00 am – the end of the “quiet hours” posted for the campground so you might well guess a few of the boats were already revving up their engines and the trucks hauling other boats from the campground to put them in the water were clattering by. Since I have been retired, I have not been particularly keen on starting my day early, but there was that day years back when I too was out there at dawn —- so I get that youthful eagerness to be up and out. The biggest disappointment of this adventure was never discovering if there were logs in the gulch because I was either too lazy or perhaps very wise to choose not to hike the Upper or Lower Log Gulch trails. After a couple strong cups of coffee at my Log Gulch Cafe it was time to dismantle and reload all of the camping gear that was so challenging to set up. Once loaded and ready to go, I was sure the drive out would be much quicker as I had not seen any RV’s heading out recently. BUT SOON I was behind another VERY cautious RV crawling out the road…but this individual pulled over at the first opportunity to allow me to pass.

    I was on my way to Cypress Hills Provincial Park in Alberta Canada for a two night stay in their “comfort camping” cabins. These are dry cabins (have no water) but do have electricity, a space heater, mini-fridge and a bunk bed. Cooking is on your own camp stove outdoors and of course the “loo” is down the road. Driving east through Montana on the Interstate almost became a pleasure as it was was much lass trafficked, the speed limit 80 in most places, minimal construction hold ups, and I was beginning to get the feel of why Montana had been branded as “Montana, Land of the Big Sky” with wide open spaces and expansive plains and rolling hills.

    In no time it seemed I came upon the Canadian Border and the Port of Entry complex…which on this very low volume rural highway did not appear to be staffed. I waited a few minutes and not sure what to do I pulled up a bit to read an instruction sign. Before I could finish reading it I saw the border agent in my rear view mirror. The sign actually said one might have to wait a bit for an agent… but he showed and then was asking me if I was intending to “just breeze on in to Canada” (my interpretation)! Either he was very suspicious of me (I know there are a lot of older gray haired women out there who are full of malfeasance and trying to slip into Canada ) or just bored and wanting to have some company in this isolated outpost. He kept asking me question after question regarding my itinerary before and in the future. Finally I was given the go ahead and came upon the “Welcome to Alberta Sign.” The major geography of this area I would describe as rolling prairie. 


    I arrived at Cypress Hills Provincial 3:30 ish and before long I was unloading my gear into the small cabin that I would be very grateful for throughout the two day stay during which there was 2 days and one night of intermittent chilly rain. This large and sprawling park is part of Elkwater Town Site, a cottage community, and my comfy camping hut was near Elkwater Lake with the marina and a large sandy beach within easy walking distance. The big questions posed by my silly offspring in our text chain were: Are there elks in the water? AND What does elkwater taste like? Was tasting the water a “dare you” from my son? Disappointingly, I wasn’t able to taste the water since even though I clearly had no intention of going in this “dark foreboding water”, the “WARNING: Public Notice. Swimmer’s Itch” absolved me of any guilt of not answering that question. No parasite induced internal itchy for me!

    The two day stay flew by with quiet time, reading, writing, and leisurely walks on the boardwalk and along the bike path by the lake. I was also quite grateful that given the intermittent rain and wind during this stay, that my tent was staying dry and cozy in the car.