Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores.
There’s nothing like the looks you get from Canadian passerby as you plant a pirate flag on the coast of Wascana Lake.
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores.
There’s nothing like the looks you get from Canadian passerby as you plant a pirate flag on the coast of Wascana Lake.
Joggers and commuters giggled and pointed, but none approached me. They knew better than to talk to a 6’2” American with a Jolly Roger.
The morning venture to plant that flag really revitalized me. I had become road-weary over the past 12 hours and, upon awakening, longed to spend the day stumbling around Regina, hopped-up on malted hops. Now I was ready for a drive.
With my newfound thirst for adventure, I ventured onto Canada’s highways, uncertain of their ways or my fate.
Their ways? Only a few differences from the U.S. interstate system:
1) There are little, if any cops. I saw two police cars, both heading in the opposite direction.
2) It’s a little slower. The speed limit is generally 110 km/hr (about 68), and they run through towns, much like state highways do, and slow to about 50 km/hr (30-ish mph) at times.
3) There are few on- and off-ramps, just normal intersections.
4) Rest areas are not all-inclusive resorts like their U.S. counterparts. They are parking lots. You can rest there and pee in the woods; that’s about all.
1) There are little, if any cops. I saw two police cars, both heading in the opposite direction.
2) It’s a little slower. The speed limit is generally 110 km/hr (about 68), and they run through towns, much like state highways do, and slow to about 50 km/hr (30-ish mph) at times.
3) There are few on- and off-ramps, just normal intersections.
4) Rest areas are not all-inclusive resorts like their U.S. counterparts. They are parking lots. You can rest there and pee in the woods; that’s about all.
My fate? A growing boredom as the scenery, which struck me as stunning at first, failed to change. Prairie is pretty. Six hours of prairie is mind-numbing. I caught only one change of view at Elk Island National Park, where I decided to pull over…
I wanted to grab some food on Wayne Gretsky Drive in Edmonton, but the radio warned me of an accident there. Past the Great One’s street, I hit North Edmonton traffic during rush hour, and it was no pleasant experience. I decided to skip Edmonton, and I sped off into the direction of the setting sun, squinting my way to Whitecourt.
Whitecourt is little more than a stop on the highway. A few motels, a few restaurants and an industrial complex on the west end. Fine by me; they had beds, food and gasoline.
I spent the evening at the Mountain Lounge, where I met Cyril. He’s a 54-year-old phone repairman who sports a distaste for American business practices. We had a friendly culture war and a few Molsons.
Canadio
My friends were good enough to burn me about 20 CDs for the trip, but with 10-plus hours on the road every day, even that goes quickly. I relied on Canadian radio for amusement lately. It delivers.
I discovered a few French stations and I’ve been forcing myself to listen to them for at least an hour every trip. It does cause me some grief when I read English road signs while listening to French. My wires get crossed, and I draw a blank in both languages.
There are also Inuit radio stations which have talk shows and music in the Native Americans’ tongue. Interesting, but unlistenable for more than five minutes.
As for the conventional radio stations, they are very broad in genre. One’s motto was: “We play all kinds of stuff.” The rock stations are usually solid, but some are hit-or-miss.
Oh, and they love Motley Crue up here. No idea why.
Canadio
My friends were good enough to burn me about 20 CDs for the trip, but with 10-plus hours on the road every day, even that goes quickly. I relied on Canadian radio for amusement lately. It delivers.
I discovered a few French stations and I’ve been forcing myself to listen to them for at least an hour every trip. It does cause me some grief when I read English road signs while listening to French. My wires get crossed, and I draw a blank in both languages.
There are also Inuit radio stations which have talk shows and music in the Native Americans’ tongue. Interesting, but unlistenable for more than five minutes.
As for the conventional radio stations, they are very broad in genre. One’s motto was: “We play all kinds of stuff.” The rock stations are usually solid, but some are hit-or-miss.
Oh, and they love Motley Crue up here. No idea why.
Until next time ... wave that flag with pride.
2 comments:
Excellent dude, I am reading attentively and you are beginning to, dare I say it, look proffesional... I need a drink, and you need five.
Why are you all worried about the speed limit? Even with nitros, Kia's top out at 50.
I'm a little worried about all this swashbuckling. What would Dr. Phil have to say about all this piracy?
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