THE EXPEDITION CHAPTER 20: The City, the Caribbean, Mexico, the Amazon, and the Northern Coniferous

In which Ann crosses the longitudinal centre of Canada…no thanks to Google Maps

Date: August 6 – 7, 2019

Town and Country Campground, on the outskirts of Winnipeg.

We slept half the next day, and I spent the other half rearranging the trailer and load to hopefully work better and be more stable, and accommodate Mr Myrtle better. Several RV’s left (most passing within a few yards, and many idling right there a little while checking last minute things, all farting exhaust into the tent), and it was much quieter. I attended an XR Ottawa meeting by means of a video call on someone’s phone (they’d been following the walk for a while now). That evening, two really nice young girls puppysat Mr Myrtle for a few minutes and I had one of the worlds quickest showers while nobody else or their dogs were around. We left early in the morning.

Date: August 8, 2019

Town and Country Campground to Lilac Resort 35 km

That was the day google maps got lost. It got confused looping through a big cloverleaf intersection on the highway, and sent me an hour north before suddenly yelling everything it should have been saying for the past hour. I was flabbergasted. The cloverleaf had been the whole pint of using it that morning. I was so frustrated I nearly threw the phone under a passing semi, but the driver waved at me not to, thank goodness. That really would’ve made things even worse. I may have muttered lot of less than pleasant things at it, though, for an inordinate amount of the hour I stomped back towards the highway I was supposed to be on.

Then we crossed this….!

When I reached Lilac Resort, I wondered if maybe I’d given myself a stroke or something.

A very tall, solid, fence visually blocks the property. You walk in – and you’re in a crowded Caribbean resort surrounded by Manitoba woods! Apparently there was even some sort of dress code at the poolside bar where I shared french fries with a slightly bewildered Mr Myrtle. french fries, but we must’ve looked tired enough to provide grounds for exception.

The place was hopping, even in the tiny office/supply shop. The owner heard me out while doing a dozen things for half a dozen people, and when I asked if he would give me a discount, he asked how much. I didn’t have an answer. He curtly said I must, if was going to ask. I told him nobody ever asked that – they either did or didn’t… if they did I was happy with whatever it was, and if they didn’t, I was happy to have somewhere anyways. He looked at me, and proposed a very kind deal, and then shooed me off to the only spot he had left, apologizing for it being rocky and out of the way.

It was perfect. Tucked in quiet, treed corner of the property with tiny campers and friendly folks, there was indeed a bit of gravel in the middle, but also a lovely mossy patch just the right size for our tent. There was water, power to charge the phone, and a clean tidy bathroom a minute or two away.

Date: August 9 2019

Lilac Resort to Wild Oaks Campground 14 km + extra 8

I’d gone four kilometres down the highway in the morning when I realized I didn’t have my sign. Not quite sure whether I hoped it was all the way back there, or flapping around in between, I called the campground. Someone had found it, and it was in their office. Back I went.

It still would be a shorter day – only 22 kilometres even with the eight extra because of doubling back for the sign.

Wild Oaks is quiet and green and comfortable and the woman who runs it is one of those wonder women who keeps everything smooth and right. She loved my walk, and told me to just stay a couple nights and get a proper rest. The next stretch would be long, too.

Date: Aug 10 2019 Wild Oaks Campground

She made sure we were comfortable, and talked as much as she could find pieces of time for while we were there. She also brought treats for Mr Myrtle, and of all things – a stuffed squeaky dog toy JELLYFISH! It was quite random; she gets a monthly package with a few such things, from a dog-stuff-of-the-month thing she belongs to… but I love jellyfish. She also gave me two large jugs of water, but I couldn’t for the life of me manage to pack them, so I left them on her doorstep with a note thanking her for so much kindness and assuring her we had enough to keep us well.

We did rest so well, but it was an eventful stay, too.

Shortly after pitching our tent, we watched a family set up theirs nearby. Then they went off to do whatever was next on their vacation agenda. They’d chose a spot away from the trees, which is a really good way to avoid ticks… but when it’s windy, your tent’s pretty exposed. Next thing you knew, a gust pulled it off its pegs, tipped it over, and started rolling it down the greenspace like a giant blue nylon tumbleweed. Being a nice round shape, it picked up speed fast, so the next thing you knew, I was chasing a runaway tent down the road! I pulled it back and pegged it back closer to the trees so it wouldn’t take off quite as easily again, and climbed back in the tent… and completely missed their return and subsequent confusion about why their tent had moved and their things gotten all jumbled. They’d gone to bed before I ever got to explain, and I was gone before they were up.

The young couple camped in the spot nearby in the other direction were meeting her parents there. The young couple lived out west; the parents, out east. They met here in summers have time together. This year was special. They were going to telling her parents that they were becoming grandparents.

We had a lovely visit… they’d thought much about bringing a child into this world, at this time. Many have decided not to. It’s completely understandable, and I respect that choice. On the other hand, youth and children – with indigenous peoples – have been at the fore of public outrage at climate inaction. It’s their future we’ve stolen. They’re fueling what possibilities we have, and the impetus to reach for them. They’re the ones who will live differently. Children are hope.

Later, when I came back from laundry and they were out breaking the news over dinner, I found they’d left a Corona at my campsite.

I watched the stars with it before bed. Before I learned about gluten and how much I react to it, I did quite like Corona once in a rare while, and it was an awfully nice way to wind up a day. Squish a lime slice in, replace the trees with palms, and pretend you’re in Mexico (I haven’t been there yet).

That was my last Corona.

Now I know more about how gluten affects my other issues. And I know that that company, and basically the rest of the North American fast food industry, is owned by the same Brazilian billionaires burning the Amazon and it’s people to grow crops for most of the companies like Anhauser Busch, Burger King, Tim Horton’s, the list goes on. They are quite literally destroying the lungs of the planet and committing genocide so we can shove burgers and doughnuts and beer down our throats. I kept the Corona lid. It makes a perfect cap for my pipe. And it reminds me constantly of this family, this conversation with them, the way our lifestyles are used to ruin us, and why every little thing matters. It’s one of the small markers that keeps me from getting lost.

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