Day Five - 10/21/07 - Out of gas in Ontario, Sasquatch-ewan Dreams

Last night we tried driving straight through the night to see if we could bypass Thunder Bay and reach Winnipeg in one go. We encountered two overturned trucks that night, perhaps a harbinger of bad fortunes to come...


With just under half a tank left, we decided to wait until reaching the town of English River to refuel. Unfortunately, English River consisted of three closed buildings and a river.

It was 4am, we were in the middle of Canadian nowhere, and without cell phone reception, so we bundled up in the car, parked at the town restaurant, and went to sleep in our automotive coffin.

I awoke this morning to the red glow of car lights in the surrounding parking lot. I lifted my ski cap and peered out from under a swathe of blankets, backpacks and wires, and saw three running pickup trucks parked outside. I groggily whispered to a snoring Gordon in the drivers seat next to me, “There’re people here. Let’s ask them for gas,” to which he responded that the restaurant wasn’t open yet, and to go back to sleep. Still pained by the crust in my eyes, I followed orders and swam happily back towards unconsciousness.

The next thing I knew, the sun was beating in through the windshield, and all signs of life at the normally bustling three building metropolis of English River had long evaporated. After stumbling out of the car, Gordon and I wandered around, finding only locked doors and “closed for season” signs.

Dammit Gordon. There were trucks! Trucks driven by Canadian mountain men just looking to unload their truckloads of gas cans!

We eventually found our way into an unlocked construction office, where we called CAA to dispatch a truck-driving Canadian mountain man with a gas can. An old-timer from nearby Upsala arrived in a few hours with our complimentary 10 liters of essence, and we were back in business, on our way to Winnipeg.

Gorilla man gave us the thumbs up to go ahead.

Winnipeg, hilariously nicknamed “Winter-peg” by Canadians for its frigid temperatures, is the capital of Manitoba, and once murder capital of Canada.

Arriving in the early evening, we stopped by the state house, expecting locked doors and/or suspicious security guards. We encountered neither. The guard at the front door was quite pleased to receive visitors, making sure that we signed the guest ledger with our full names and hometowns. With nary a hint of a metal detector or an old fashioned American pat down, we were given visitor passes and free reign to explore the building, which was deserted except for a family of Taiwanese tourists at this time of night.

After our foray into the Canadian provincial political scene, we found a sports bar to watch game seven of the ALCS between the Red Sox and the Indians. At this point, Brad announced that he would throw up if he had to sit through another baseball game, and disappeared into the Winnipegian mists in search of a sports-free dinner.

We stayed the night in a local hotel, where we watched the Sox clinch their berth in the World Series.