I was armed with a Garmin GPS device someone had given me. My dad had programmed it for me already and I needed to do was turn it on and say Go! It took me forever to get it turned on--press and hold, hold, hold the button--and even then it didn't seem to work right. First it gave me all the directions from driveway to the perimeter barely before I'd pulled into traffic. Then it didn't seem to know where I was. Oh well, at least I knew where I was going, sort of. I had a vague recollection of my dad saying "straight down highway 59". Eventually I figured out that I hadn't flipped open the receiver piece on the back in order to receive the satellite signals. Stupid technology. Garmin and I were well on our way to a lasting relationship.
I was cruising down the highway with the windows down and the music up when a big dollop of bird poop landed on my windshield. Crap! But I smiled as I thought to myself, bird poop landing on you is supposed to be a lucky thing, so maybe this was a lucky omen of sorts. Later, as I passed the turn off to Steinbach I noticed a DOUBLE rainbow in the sky. Spotting one band of colour in the sky seems lucky enough, but a double one? Divine! Surely if I was to pull off the highway right then and there I would wander into a field of four-leaf clovers and find a unicorn to take me to a magic castle of gold. What a glorious day. What a great start to the August long weekend!
I soon found myself stopped at the end of a line. It took me a moment to realize this was the line for the border because the border crossing was nowhere in site. On the left side of the highway was a sprawling country home. A retriever--type dog came out to the end of its driveway and was wagging its tail at the cars. So cute! I figured I'd have time to take a picture, but first I wanted to take one of this long line I was in. I turned on my camera and pressed the button. The camera beeped at me and turned off. Stupid whiny thing, what do you mean you need new batteries already? You're faking. I tried again. Beep! Shut down. It's sometimes temperamental like that. I tried again and got a picture by accident through my windshield before it really was dead. I don't think it really tells the whole story of the line up, but I will post it here for you anyway:
Can you see a border crossing in there? No? Precisely. This is the crossing at Tolstoi, MB going into Lancaster, MN at 7:00 p.m. Typically this crossing is not very busy at all. Most people cross at Pembina, a 24-hour, 2-4 lane set up, on their way to Grand Forks or Fargo, ND, or Minneapolis, MN. Nobody goes through Tolstoi because there really isn't any shopping on the other side of it, not for many many miles anyway. Just camping and eventually a casino.
So anyway, there I was with my lucky bird crap, a happy dog and a quarter of a venti, iced chai tea latte. I checked out the line forming behind me. The vanity plate on the SUV in my rear view mirror read HLYWOOD. Inside was a big, black football-type dude, a skinny white guy with mirrored aviators, and a young woman, who, when she got out of the vehicle to stretch, looked to me exactly like Nicole Kidman when she did Days of Thunder.
The line moved slowly, which was annoying, but I thought that my destination was within site, just behind a clump of trees. As I inched closer though I saw that I was very mistaken and that the road curved again past the clump of trees and went on further still.
After the first hour I was mildly annoyed and restless. After two hours I was hot and bothered and noticing the mosquitoes. It was nine o'clock and there was probably 16 cars ahead of me yet. The station would close at ten. Things were looking a bit dicey. I looked down and noticed that my Garmin had given up and gone to sleep already.
I got up to the border patrol shortly after 9:30. Two officers had just left to go tell some people that they wouldn't be making it through that night. The mosquitoes were swarming. I reluctantly rolled down the window and handed over my passport.
"Where's home?" the guard asked.
"Winnipeg."
"Where you going?"
"Lake Bronson."
"What kind of food products do you have on board?"
"None," I said.
"No food products at all?" he asked.
"None at all."
"Okay have a nice trip."
I rolled up the window and headed down the highway. It was dusk now. I tried to turn Garmin back on but it wouldn't go. The thing had died on me during the wait. Let's review. It was late and getting dark. I was tired after a long day at work and the 2.5 hours of sitting in a line up. I had only a super big tea latte in my tummy and no rations in the truck. I had no map of any kind with me for my destination, only the directions from my father to "keep on Highway 59" and a fuzzy memory of what the Garmin had drawn out before it unceremoniously died on me. Wait, is that a critter trying to cross the road, OMG IT'S A SKUNK!
I swerved to the right, the skunk scurried left. Imagine if I had hit the thing the stink I would have had to endure? I shuddered.
I kept driving and reached the town of Lancaster in the dark. I asked for directions at the lonely gas station there, thinking there must be some place I need to turn off, some junction I needed to look for. But the man in his overalls eating a slice of pizza just told me to stay on Highway 59 and I'd get there. What I didn't know is that "There" is actually the tiny town of Lake Bronson, and once you get "There" you will then finally see a sign with an arrow pointing left in the direction of the state park. More driving in the dark and feeling lost but I eventually got to the park gates. I drove past the office because A) the signs said the park closes at 10 pm, which was 10 minutes ago, and B) my dad had told me they were camping in the second bay, so I figured I could just look for the second driveway past the office and badda bing I'd be at my destination. No. Sorry. Not like that. I soon found myself at a dead end with an interpretive centre building where I was able to consult this map (I went back to take these pictures in the daylight):
You are Here
And now look way on the other side of the map where the campground is located (I added the directional note for your reference):
The place I needed to go was down the road from a bible camp. You'd think God would have put out a beacon or something to guide his lost flock, but I guess He likes to have his Friday night entertainment too. Anyway, I eventually found my mom and dad, although I didn't want to talk to either of them when I got there. I tried to just crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and let sleep wash away the who mess, but my mom insisted on getting the story from me, which was essentially, the line up was hecka long, the Garmin died, I had a near run-in with a stinky animal, it was dark, I once was lost and now am found. She failed to see what I was all in a huff about, which is usually how it goes when one gets all up in arms about something and then tries to explain it to someone else who's been relaxing in an air-conditioned motor home for the past 24 hours.
Anyway, I may continue the update tomorrow, but that was the lucky start to my Aug long. After a 2.5 hour wait I didn't get turned away from America, I didn't hit a skunk, I didn't become a highway statistic, and I found my way to my destination without the aid of a map or reliable piece of technology. Never a dull moment around here.
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