etherfarm

Moose Jaw and Frenchman’s Butte

Later

11:09 on Monday, July 26, 2004 • 4 responses

Earlier

It occurred to me that this trip will bring me further north on the planet than I’ve ever been. Prior to this, the furthest north I’ve traveled was the northern tip of the Gaspé peninsula in Québec.

Indications that you’re deep into a rural expanse:

• Noticeable increases in the decibel level and splat factor of the bugs hitting your car’s windshield. Some bugs hit the car with such force it’s hard to believe they weren’t aiming. Also, the Bug Gut Tenacity Factor™ rises— last night I had to stop at a gas station every hour or so just to clean off my windshield with a rubber squeegee (wipers clearly weren’t cutting it), and even using the squeegee with considerable force leaves a “bug juice film” which makes night vision more and more difficult as it accumulates.
• Town slogans and distinctions become increasingly dubious and obscure. Arden, Manitoba is the Crocus Capital of the World. Neepawa, Manitoba boasts that it’s both the Lily Capital of the World and a “Community in Bloom.” Sicamous, British Columbia claims to be the houseboat capital of Canada. Rocanville, Saskatchewan claims itself the Oil Can Capital of the World, and Russell, Manitoba is “Home of Beef & Barley Days.” Perhaps none of the many town slogans I encountered on this trip (both in Canada and in the U.S.) were perhaps as odd as that of Gladstone, Manitoba‘s, which proudly touts its status as “Home of the Happy Rock”. Said Happy Rock’s home can be in a small park at the entrance to the town, and I have to say—I’m very glad that town officials decided to display the statue’s name so prominently. I would have undoubtedly mistaken the Happy Rock for a Jolly Marshmallow Chimneysweep.
• Vast stretches of highway lay between these small towns, and virtually all of Canada’s midsection is entirely devoid of interesting topography. As such, anything other than wheat, canola, and cattle becomes a major feature on the landscape. Such major attractions deserve their own signage. You’re notified well in advance of approaching trash cans, yarn spinners and places to shoot animals. I wish I had taken more photographs of these signs, because they all gesture towards a universal visual language (stick people doing various things), but some of the illustrations are just plain bizarre. It took a few hours of rumination and exploration to decipher my favorite sign from the entire trip (presented below), examples of which I found all over Saskatchewan, but very few of them had the caption attached. Being on the road by oneself can be a little intimidating; the comfort of knowing where to get seed cannot be overlooked.