Poutine And Bears: Part 4

After a delightful breakfast, which I don’t know how much we paid for (but even Mrs. Curmudgeon was shocked), we left town. Eager to save money I bought some lunch meat. Everything in my chuckbox is “dry goods” but now I was messing around with ice in a cooler. What a PITA.

I also stopped at Canada Tire, because of course I did. I didn’t buy much. Canada Tire was a zoo, just like WalMart in the US (and there was also a WalMart across the street). I like Canada Tire. They used to have weird Canada Tire currency and I loved that! I think that’s over now. I miss it.

The novelty of Canadian crowds was more refreshing than mundane exposure to American “people of WalMart”. I should point out that everyone was quite civil and there were no thuggish shitheads causing drama; chalk one up to Canada’s more civilized bent. People were people and I’m not a people guy but it wasn’t awash in beings that looked like they’d teleported in from Jupiter. On the other hand I had to step around dogshit in one of the aisles. Since we were in civilized Canada, I assume the shit was from a dog.

I wanted to buy a collapsible fishing pole. None appealed to me. I was going to get a t-shirt but was overwhelmed by the crowd and forgot. I looked for paper maps but couldn’t find anything better than what I’d already bought on Amazon.

I did get bug spray. The season arrives soon. I noticed there was no permethrin? Oh lord, I hope my fellow rednecks in Canada have access to that miracle concoction! Permethrin is good stuff! (Don’t give me shit about herbal quack bug stuff… bugs up north are the big leagues. In particular citronella is bullshit. It does about as much good against Canadian bog mosquitoes as an orange peel will protect you against a rhino.) They did have the biggest selection of Thermacell I’d ever seen. I already have plenty of Thermacell refills.

Incidentally, I wear tick resistant permethrin treated jeans all the time. I think it helps. I take ticks seriously.

We headed out on what I perceived to be the main commercial highway that connects Kenora to… earth. All that plastic shit at Canada Tire had to come on a truck right?

As we rolled out on a highway I’d never seen before, I told Mrs. Curmudgeon “this is the main commercial shipping route, there ought to be gas stations and restaurants and stuff”.

Wrong!

Just outside of town was a sign. I didn’t take a picture but it said:

“Mr. Curmudgeon, make sure you have a full tank of gas because you won’t see fuck all for so many miles it’ll make your eyes bleed.”

I’m paraphrasing, but the sign wasn’t wrong. We didn’t see jack squat for hours. It was gorgeous though. Smooth pavement and nice views. I had a fine time. Somewhere out in the middle of that emptiness, we stopped at a pretty spot and made sandwiches.

I wonder if their main shipping is rail and not trucks? It really is empty out there. The US invested heavily in Interstate Highways and leaned into fleets of semis; or at least it did until it started throttling its own economy. Maybe this part of Canada leaned into trains; which are more efficient on long hauls?

We stopped at a blip on the map that interested me. This was one of many “turn here to plunge into the unknown” spots. A paved road split off straight into the forest. According to my map, the pavement goes X miles and terminates at town Y, which is so small that who knows what’s up there. The terminus is a lake and I think a vast ice road system builds from there, as in across the frozen lake and totally impassible in summer. Though I’ve never been there in winter so what do I know?

As for dirt roads there are a few offshoots of the pavement spur that look like log truck main haul routes, some of which skip from this paved dead-end to other paved dead-ends. There’s probably a spiderweb of smaller “feeder” dirt roads that snake out from the main dirt trunk through bogs and swamps and into various areas good for growing trees. On this mellow road trip, we were definitely not equipped to explore anything like that.

At the blip on the map there was one convenience store. One! People were buying shit like the world was on fire. There was literally nothing else available. The restrooms were in constant use. The pumps never stopped selling fuel. It was chaos. Somehow I expected a Tim Hortons at least.

I don’t know how many people live up on that paved spur and the associated hinterlands but I was at the bottleneck that led to it. Unless they’re getting into and out of there by plane (which is a possibility) or just never leave (another possibility) all of human civilization absolutely must pass this single overworked convenience store. Every gallon of gas, candy bar, spark plug, snowmobile, outboard motor, can of beer, and tampon in all of that big area has to come past this spot and meander up that road. Yet, there was almost no infrastructure.

I have spent many wilderness camping trips in Canada, but I never really thought about infrastructure. I paddled from nowhere to nowhere eating pike and sleeping in a tent. I wasn’t there to meet people. I scarcely thought about humans at all. This time I was people watching and it was a different vibe.

We decided to continue on. Still I ponder the mystery, “how do the people in that town up there get chicken nuggets”?

Approximately eleven million miles later we came to the first “big town” since Kenora. By big town I mean it had Canada Tire, restaurants, and hotels. This town I’d seen once before. Maybe a decade and a half ago I rolled through with a canoe on my truck’s roof. I remembered nothing of the town except it was a mill town and it had fuel. (I try hard to remember fuel stop locations.)

Mrs. Curmudgeon said “what do you mean ‘mill town’?” Then the wind shifted and the dog gave a snort and we all got a strong whiff of the paper making process. The chemical voodoo used to turn trees into paper stinks. I remember a mill town in Maine called Lincoln. We called it “Stinkin’ Lincoln”.

Now this isn’t all bad! It’s a renewable resource being made into a product people want and that’s a big deal. It’s literally the smell of commerce in a place where every dollar (or loonie) is needed and presumably appreciated.

We topped off fuel and kept rolling. Stay tuned…