Taking water to Manitoba's dust

I washed the car yesterday afternoon. Not that it needed it.


This was our sixth trip to Shining Falls. Four times we've driven the distance. Twice we've flown either to Fargo or to Winnipeg, which required renting a vehicle to get us to the air base in Bissett, 97 miles from Winnipeg. Six times we've driven that last long 37 miles on a terrible dirt and gravel road, the dust during dry weather so fine and thick that it invades the interior of the car. Always all our luggage has to be vacuummed before we can bring it into the house.

Most of the dust, even that surrounding the doors, the trunk lid and the hood, is gone now ... until next year.

Signs of self-expression

Tal and I have been back in Edgefield since Wednesday night. As we go about settling into to home once again -- from the laundry to the lawn, from the mail to the mutts, we talk about the trip with happy satisfaction, recalling moments, scenes, encounters.

The trip's destination was Shining Falls Lodge, of course, and the fishing on Family Lake in Manitoba's Adikaki Provencial Park. But, those ten serene days in cabin four were preceeded and followed by a total seven nights on the road and 3900 miles in the car, a significant amount of time to be sure and absolutely an important part of the entire experience.

I read bumper stickers and license tags with great interest, realizing along the way how expressive they are of personality and position. I have a terrible memory and refrained from writing while driving, so those I actually recall had quite an impact.

On the conservative side was this bumper sticker on a trailor hauling cattle, a take off on PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals): People Eating Tasty Animals.

And, this one in the back window of a pickup truck: Gun Control Means Using Both Hands.

This observation, leaning liberal, we spied on the rear of a Suberu Forester: At least the war on the environment is going well.

Personalized license tags are rightly referred to as vanity plates. I think of my own: VTS92 -- the year I graduated from seminary and the seminary's initials. Here are two we noticed and discussed as the miles rolled along: Similar to my plate was UT PHD 95. How about that for specific information about the driver? And, XCUZ U on a large Cadillac which, by the way, was passing everything on the road.

We both know there were others, some more clever, but they're stubbornly not coming to mind. Suffice it to say that we were gladly entertained along the way by all these bits of self-expression.

One last thought: I think one could, in general, make a case for which bit of self-expression might appear on specific vehicle makes and models. Another time, perhaps.

Some day came

On our way from Edgefield to Bissett, somewhere along the way, we passed an RV -- a compact little house on wheels –- which had a slogan painted on the back: Some Day Came. I only caught a glimpse of the couple (a good thing since I was the driver), who looked youngish for retired, but who am I to judge?

I liked the slogan; it reminded me a little of the names people give their beach houses at Pawleys and Litchfield. I’m happy for that couple that their some day -– some day I want to have a camper and just hit the road – came. Whatever it took, I’m glad.

Today we had a little “some day.” Since the first time I saw a map of the part of Family Lake Shining Falls uses, I’ve been intrigued by one location pretty far to the north. Beer Can Alley. At some point during each visit I’d say, “Someday I’d like to motor up there.”

Well, today some day came. We set out immediately after finishing breakfast. The water was still smooth, so the boat felt as though it were gliding, almost levitating. Twice we stopped to consult the map and each time we were enchanted by the symmetrical wake spreading evenly on either side of the back of the boat, the surface of the water not breaking, just rising and falling outward and outward. We found Beer Can Alley without incident (always a relief …), a narrow, quiet, meandering stretch of water with a high rock formation on one side and a wide, flat marsh on the other. In actuality there wasn’t much to see. But, I have to say that we did see a beer can floating up against the reeds. It has its name for a reason, I judge.

For the remainder of the day we fished – back at McKay Bay. Very successfully. In fact, Tal’s first eight casts produced eight walleyes. He looks pretty happy doesn’t he? (Getting him to smile for the endless fish pictures takes some cajoling.)

We ate lunch in McKay Bay and then set out for one last pass through Tal’s Channel and a couple other favorite spots. Including taking a peek at the eagle’s nest. Earlier in this visit we could see the chicks (eaglets?) in the nest, but today we were treated to the sight of a very large parent presiding over home.

As we were preparing for this trip, I told Tal that I expected that we would have nine perfect days here, but that one of them would be exquisite. Today turned out to be that day. It was clear from twilight to twilight, long sleeves were still comfortable, the water was never rough, the fish were cooperative, a light breeze kept the mosquitoes away. And, tonight as I write this, the door to cabin four is open and I can hear loons calling, one relatively close and the other more distant. There may be no more plaintive sound in this world. Going to sleep with that particular music drifting to my ears is a perfect ending to an exquisite day.

The longest day of the year

Last year on June 21st, the first day of summer 2006, Tal and I were on the water pre-dawn awaiting a photo op with the rising sun. Not today. It was cold! The fire in the stove when we went to the lodge for breakfast was as welcome as the steaming mug of coffee. I’ve worn none of the short-sleeved shirts I brought with me on this trip and today, even as the calendar marks a change of season, was not the day to start.

As we made our way back to the cabin after breakfast, we were given a rare treat. A pair of loons was right off the main dock, diving and resurfacing, sometimes together, sometimes singly, the one up alone clucking softly, but persistently, as he or she looked for its mate. I don’t have focal length enough to get a good photograph, but I tried anyway.


Then, it was back to the river where the fishing continued to be good for another several hours. This is a shot taken from Myron’s Current looking toward the falls, which I had to wait to take until the wind calmed significantly. For a time we watched whitecaps breaking toward us, that is, breaking upstream. Sort of odd to watch.

A quite afternoon in the cabin for naps and reading and yet another delicious supper in the dining room prepared us for a good-bye ride to Spring Fever Bay and an hour of (more) good fishing.

We came in early, yet again given the looks of the weather – which made for a rather dramatic sunset on the longest day of the year. So last year, a sun rise and this year a sun set.

The photos say it all

We arrived here at Shining Falls one week ago today. Aside from sleeping, which for both of us has been long and deep each night, fishing and monitoring the weather has taken up most of our time. And, we’ve done both of those things today.

Starting out in Tal’s Channel (yes, it’s printed on the map, I promise), the Tarbox Guide Service kept the passenger in the front of the boat rather busy. In this photo Tal is sitting in the bow of the boat because the fish he’s showing off to the camera managed to wrap itself around the anchor rope while it was being caught.

Impending rain sent us back to the cabin for lunch. Here is a view through Tal’s Channel at the gathering clouds as we readied ourselves for our departure.


When the skies cleared, we made our first venture to the river this trip. Being the boat operator en route to that location requires extra attention as the currents are strong. In fact, the feeling I get motoring through the current reminds me of having the traction control on the car activate. Where we fish (in a spot called Myron’s Current) puts us in no danger of going “over” the falls, but the sound of the falls is very close and very loud.

And, again … the guide service did pretty well. Folks at the lodge – other guests and the staff -- are well aware that Mr LeGrand has it pretty good!

Plus, the photographer’s finally learned to use flash to “see” under the bill of Tal’s hat, although that strategy seems to do strange things to the sky.

Moon set

For the past three nights the skies have been mostly clear and the moon has illuminated the landscape – casting shadows and ranging from a yellow orange to almost red. I was up twice in the night and spend a few minutes each time standing in its soft light. Not wanting to wake Tal with the noise I would have made with the tripod at about 3:45, I simply gazed. At that time the wide yellow reflection on the water extended directly from our dock to the opposite shore. At 4:45, however, it was light enough that I could handhold the camera. Within 15 minutes the moon was almost too pale to be visible.

All “hail” broke loose

I woke up this morning with a hymn on my mind. Hail thee festival day, blest day thou art hallowed forever. As we walked back to our cabin after breakfast, Tal commented that I was humming it. And then later, when we were back at Walleye Wall (so good was the fishing yesterday), Tal complained -- somewhat emphatically -- that he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Oh, the power of suggestion, I suppose.

At about 11:30 we had a stringer of eight fish all between 16 and 17½ inches long. A storm which we were beginning to hear, but couldn’t see, was forming. So, a hasty photo of our catch and we were off at full speed toward the lodge. We made it to the main dock and handed off the stringer to Jonathan, back to our dock and unloaded the boat just in time to stay dry.

Large and slow-moving, this storm packed a wallop: driving rain, slanting from the north, for 10 relentless minutes; just as the lightening and thunder became simultaneous, a bolt of lightening struck the point of land directly across the little bay from cabin four, felling a tree, and marble-size hail began to pelt the landscape. Twenty minutes later, the ground covered with ice, the hail stopped, the rain resumed and lasted for another hour.

Tal thinks I should be more careful with the choice of tunes in my head.