Day 18: Yellow Fields

On our trip across the parking lot the night before, S noticed a pool of oil under her bike. Oh for pity’s sake; not again. Unbelievably, our hotel was literally walking distance away from a Harley dealer. We took this as our excuse to sleep in, let S take her bike over at 9:00 when the shop opened, and we’d leisurely pack up while they checked it out.

It wasn’t oil. It was transmission fluid. Two bolts holding the cover on were gone, and all the rest were loose. No one in the shop had ever heard of such a thing. S wondered if drunken locals had tampered with her bike the night before at our dirty campsite while we slept. No, surely not, the rest of us insisted. But then again, do you suppose??

We left the flat, yellow fields of Saskatchewan behind for the flat, yellow fields of Manitoba. What is that? Mustard? Golden rod? Some fields are green. Do they cut off the yellow tops when they reap it, then bale the green stalks later? What is that?

I had puzzled on this for three days, and finally some farmer helpfully labeled her fields. The yellow flowered ones were canola. The green ones were flax. I wonder what I would have thought about for three days if the fields way back in Alberta had signs. Probably would have come up with a cure for the common cold, but no, I had to puzzle over crops.

It rained again. K and I insisted on a hotel again. We were headed towards Winnipeg, a major city, and therefore, likely to include a Hampton Inn. S and L lamented that they had spoiled K and I by giving in on the Ramada Inn last night. They figured the camping was over and they wouldn’t get K and I back in tents for the rest of the trip. Or maybe ever.

Clean sheets. Fluffy bedding. Hot showers. Mindless TV to help you downshift from your day. Room Service. These are a few of my favorite things. S and L might be right.

Daily Recap: 300 miles, Province: Manitoba (Winnipeg)