The Silent "I"

Great Northern Adventure: Dogsledding In Churchill

This is part of a retrospective on our trip to see polar bears in Canada in 2002. In this episode, we ride a dogsled and never want to leave.

Monday, November 11, 2002

On our third day in Churchill, we woke up and decided to try something new for breakfast, so we walked a whole two blocks to Seaport Inn down the street.  The food was better than at the Churchill Motel next door to us, but the service was lousy and it took forever to get served. Most of the restaurants are somehow attached to a motel, and there aren't many, so we had to take what we could get.

After breakfast, we boarded a yellow school bus for a trip to an old rocket launching site, now a repurposed into a scientific study center.  At this point, I had finally gotten over my fear that polar bears were lurking around every corner.  I was fairly confident that most of them had already hightailed it out of town and were more interested in tasty seals than humans for lunch anyway.  The few we saw the day before seemed to be the lollygaggers, mostly young males unaware of global warming, who probably figured that they had all the time in the world.

Great Northern Adventure: Polar Bears in Churchill

This post is part of a series of posts on our trip to Churchill, Manitoba to see the annual polar bear migration.  In this post, we finally get to see some actual bears, and Alexander declares war on his snowsuit.

November 10, 2002

I grew up in Ohio, where winters were cold and snowy.  I lived in Chicago for three years, where I thought I'd freeze to death in the two block walk from my dorm room to my law school classes, when the howling winds off Lake Michigan whipped up in a frenzy of ice, wind, and snow.  I thought I knew cold.

Despite that, I was not prepared for how cold it would be in Churchill.  I can honestly say that this was the coldest cold I'd ever experienced in my life. Both Frank and I are Midwestern refugees who gladly traded in the snow and ice for the temperate climate of California, and hotter than West Hell summers in Austin.  Maybe that made us wimps, or maybe it's just too damn cold in Churchill.  Probably both.

On our first morning in Churchill, we suited up with layer upon layer of long underwear, t-shirts, flannel shirts, sweaters, fleece, then polar jackets, scarves, gloves, and boots.  It took 20 minutes to get dressed just to go thirty yards to breakfast next door at Churchill Motel.

Alexander was content to put on the layers, but drew a firm line in the sand when it came to the one-piece snowsuit.  He went on an all-out toddler rampage when the evil contraption brought forth, as though he were being dragged to the dungeon to be put into a modern equivalent of an Iron Maiden.  He put up quite a fight, and it took four adults, two cookies, and a promise of something shiny to get him suited up for the day.

After breakfast, we joined our tour group for a helicopter tour that took us over the town and out over the Hudson Bay to look for polar bears.  The Bay was sufficiently frozen so most of the bears had moved out onto the ice to hunt for seals.  If all else failed over the next few days, we hoped to at least get a glimpse of a few from the air.

We went out to the helicopter landing site, and found out that Alexander was not allowed to go up (nor did he particularly want to), so he and I stayed in the cozy station while Frank goes up with the first group, along with Chris, Ruth, and Ralph.  Alex and I drank hot cocoa in the station and watched the helicopters take off and land. He still hated his snowsuit, and stared pensively out the window.  His expression is either "Wish I could go on one of those big whirly contraptions" or "I wonder why my parents hate me so much to make me wear this damn snowsuit."

Great Northern Adventure: Churchill, Canada

This post is part of a series on a trip we took to Canada in 2002 to see the annual polar bear migration through Churchill.

November 9, 2002

At 9 am on November 9, we arrived at our final destination: Churchill. Churchill is a normally a quiet little town on the shores of the Hudson Bay in Manitoba, with a population just under 1,000 people. Every year in late fall, polar bears migrate through the town and onto the bay, after waking up from hibernation.  Every year, dopey tourists like us migrate up to Churchill to try to catch a glimpse of these magnificent bears, with somewhat mixed results.

After three days and two nights on the Via Rail Train, we finally emerged bleary-eyed at our final destination. We had to wrestle Alexander into his snowsuit to deboard the train, and he was not at all not happy about it. It was like trying to dress a baby alligator.  He seemed to have the strength of ten toddlers all of a sudden, and used all his might to try to throw the snowsuit off and out of the window of the train.

We brought along enormous bags, all of which we had to try to wrangle off the train, along with the unhappy toddler, and catch up with our group at the train station.  It was like walking into a cryogenic deep-freezer when we got off the train, but the day was clear and bright.  A North Star School bus waited to take us on the first leg of the tour when we got off the train.

Our extremely perceptive tour guide, John, suggested that they drop off Alexander and me at the playground at the Town Center.  The rest of the group went on to an Inuit museum and to see some of the town's sights, including the famous polar bear jail, where bears who stray to close to town are housed until the bay freezes over.  Then, they are airlifted out to sea, with a tag and a stern warning not to come back. The townspeople used to shoot the bears who wandered into town, after a few mauling incidents, but given the state of the polar bear population, they opted to try for a peaceful co-existence instead.

Great Northern Adventure: On the Train to Churchill

This is part of a retrospective series on our trip to see migrating polar bears in Canada in 2002. 

November 7-9, 2002

At the Winnipeg Train Station, we hopped on the Via Rail Canada train with our group from John Steel Rail Tours with our regulation one-per-customer carry-on bags.  We walked down the long, narrow corridor in search of Deluxe Sleeper Car E.  Ruth and Ralph had booked the Regular Sleeper Car, and Chris had a Roomette.  We were curious to see the difference.  Frank and I had taken an overnight trip from Paris to Florence on our honeymoon, so my expectations for the Deluxe Sleeper Car were pretty low.  This was good, because the Canadian VIA Rail met my low expectations.

Our Deluxe Sleeper Car was the size of a walk-in closet and consisted of two bunk beds that folded into a seat in the daytime. The bathroom that was the size of a rather cramped telephone booth. Superman would have a hard time changing in that one, I thought to myself.  The bathroom gave a new meaning to the term term “water closet.”  The sink folded down over the toilet, which was actually a pretty clever space-saving innovation, since you don’t normally use both at the same time. 

We were next door to Ruth and Ralph, whose place looked amazingly similar to ours.  The only difference we could discern was that we had a tiny, narrow metal closet by the bed that was about half the width of a high school gym locker.  It was big enough to hang a shirt or two, but none of our bags would fit in there.  Ruth looked in our room and said, “Hey, we don’t have a locker!”

I replied, “That’s what makes this room de-luxe!  We paid extra for that locker! Worth every penny.”

Great Northern Adventure: Winnipeg, Manitoba

 

This is part 4 of a series on our vacation to Canada and Minnesota in 2002, before I had a blog. Eventually, we see polar bears. Honest.

November 6-7, 2002

After leaving the Land of 10,000 Mennonites, we drove back to Winnipeg.  Frank insisted that we stop at the Canadian Mint, for some unknown reason.  I stayed in the car because mints (other than the chocolate kind) just don’t do a thing for me.  Frank went in and was the only visitor.  He bought an ounce of gold, some coins and a stuffed polar bear for Alexander.  He said there was no one inside, and it was “quiet as a tomb.”  I started to sense a pattern developing on this vacation. I decided to rename it the "Quiet as a Tomb Tour."

After our brief stop at the Mint, we drove into Winnipeg to find the posh Fairmont Hotel.  On the outside, it was a tall, gray, nondescript building, but the inside was nicely furnished and the staff was helpful and friendly.  They were not ready for us when we arrived, so we drove to the Forks Shopping Mall, not far from the Hotel, right across from the train station. 

I bought a big red fleece jacket that said “CANADA” across the chest, like the wildly popular ones the Canadians wore in the 2002 Winter Olympics. I'm pretty sure now that actual Canadians didn't wear these jackets, but I felt a sort of solidarity with them. Plus, red is my color, so it was as much a fashion statement as political a political one. 

There was a small Manitoba Museum outside the mall, so we checked that out as well.  It had a stuffed polar bear, a buffalo, and some exhibits on Manitoba agriculture.  This was our first polar bear sighting on the trip, albeit a stuffed on.

When we got back to the hotel, they were ready for us, so we checked into our room on the 19th Floor.  We were on a Gold Level floor that had a special lounge for tea and evening drinks, along with coffee and pastries in the morning.  The floor also had its own concierge desk.  The people who worked at the desk took a shine to Alexander immediately and lavished him with attention. 

Great Northern Adventure: Steinbach, Manitoba, Canada

This is Part 3 of a series on our Great Northern Adventure 2002, in which we take a circuitous route to visit some polar bears in Canada.

November 5-6, 2002

After our exciting jaunt into North Dakota, we drove northeast to Steinbach, Manitoba.  Frank’s  ancestors were Mennonites, so Frank has always been interested in Mennonite history and settlements.  There is a large Mennonite population in Manitoba, and most of it appears to be centered in Steinbach. 

As we drove in, Frank noticed the car dealerships had the names like those of his ancestors, like Friesen and Penner, which thrilled him to no end.  I guess that gave the place an air of familiarity to him, but I was unimpressed.  I suppose I would have felt differently if they had names like “Choi” or “Kim." 

We found our way to the Frantz Motor Inn, which Frank had reserved in honor of his late Grandmother Tena Franz.  “Probably some distant relation,” he mused. 

The place had a creepy, “Twin Peaks” sort of atmosphere, with blood red carpet, beat up walls and dim naked lightbulbs swinging overhead.  There was something unsettling about the experience, like we might see a ghost wearing a polyester leisure suit or possibly see “Crime Scene” or "Biohazard" tape around one of the doors.  It may be somewhat telling that I can only describe these places in terms of old television shows—they seemed to be stuck in time, and in this case it looked like the place had not been redecorated for about 30 years. Our room was actually much nicer than the hallway led us to believe it would be.

We ate dinner in the motel’s restaurant, The Brass Lantern.  It was unremarkable except for the fact that the portions were huge and served on what might have been used as a turkey platter instead of a plate. It was just what we needed, more big bland food.  Alexander’s chicken nuggets were about the size of his 95% percentile toddler head.  We retired to our room and watched the results of the U.S. elections.  The Republicans appeared to be making significant gains in both the House and Senate.  We went to sleep depressed.

Great Northern Adventure: North Dakota

Our Great Northern Adventure 2002: Part 2

November 5, 2002

We drove out of Angle Inlet, after a routine stop at the Customs Phone Booth at Jim’s Corner to tell them we were leaving the U.S. and going back to Canada.  We drove for a while, had a snack, then stopped in a deserted park in Letellier, Manitoba.  There was no snow on the ground here, and the air was crisp and clear. It looked like fall.

Aside from the park, all we could see of the town was a grain elevator and not much else.  Alexander liked the park and primarily wanted to swing…and swing…and swing…  We were able to coax him back into the car when he heard a train passing.  We jumped in the car and searched for the train, which was a couple of blocks away.  It was probably the longest freight train I have ever seen in my life and it seemed like it took an hour to pass.  Alexander was obsessed with trains at the time, so he loved it.

Before we left for this vacation, I started a small scrapbook of “Alexander’s Fifty States” with the names of all the U.S. States in alphabetical order, with room for a picture and information about when Alexander visited that particular state.  I figured that a grown-up Alexander could fill in the missing states on his own someday, but it would be a fun record of our travels together. 

Frank, being the goal-oriented traveler that he is, got a little carried away with this little book.  He would seize any opportunity to add a state to Alexander’s collection.  Since we were close to the North Dakota border, Frank had suggested that we cross over to have lunch, take a picture, then drive to our motel in Steinbach, Manitoba.  Sounded like a good idea at the time, so we headed south.

Great Northern Adventure: Angle Inlet, Minnesota

Back in November, 2002, before I had a blog or even knew what a blog was, Frank, Alex and I ventured north to Minnesota, North Dakota, and Canada.  This is the beginning of a series of stories from that trip, a little walk through the snow down memory lane.

❄ November 3-5, 2002 ❄

Frank, Alexander and I started our Great Northern Adventure by flying from San Jose, California, U.S.A. to Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on Sunday, November 3, 2002.  Alex was 2 1/2, a talkative, bright toddler with a will of titanium.  Our journey took us from Winnipeg to such glamor spots as Angle Inlet, Minnesota; Pembina, North Dakota; and Steinbach, Manitoba, all the way north to our final destination in Churchill, Manitoba to witness the annual polar bear migration.  We could have dubbed this the “Bears or Bust Tour.” 

Our trip started out auspiciously enough.  The California weather was cool and clear, and perfect for flying.  At the San Jose Airport, Alexander got to burn off a little of his excess toddler-energy at the play scape in Terminal C, then we boarded a United flight to Denver.  We changed planes in Denver to a small regional jet, where Alexander tortured the man in front of him for two solid hours by alternately screeching maniacally and kicking his seat. We arrived in Winnipeg later that night. 

We spent the first night in the 4 Points Hotel, a comfortable and convenient place that was literally across the street from the airport.  The next morning, Frank picked up a rented Volvo station wagon, and we were off.  Our first mission was to find some extra snow gear before heading to the wilds of Canada and the Northern United States.  The friendly hotel staff directed us to a nearby mall, but recommended the local Wal-Mart as the place to shop for snow gear.  We found the mall, and promptly bought snow boots for Alexander at Sears.  We didn’t find much for ourselves, and everyone we asked recommended that we go to—you guessed it—Wal-Mart.  After the fifth person recommended Wal-Mart, I gritted my teeth to overcome my deep-seated anti-Wal-Mart bias (I am a loyal Target shopper), and reluctantly agreed to go there.

Wal-Mart was all the locals said it would be and more, and did not disappoint. Evidently, not all Wal-Marts are created equal. This one was spacious, clean, with clearly marked aisles.  The one we have near our home has the perpetual look of a store that has just been looted, so this was surprising to me. After arming ourselves with cheaper-than-cheap boots, scarves, film, and miscellaneous other winter-vacation related items, we headed blindly into the snow country.

Car Review: Ford Taurus 2010

On Friday, I went to an event sponsored by Ford, hosted by my friends at Clever Girls Collective, introducing the 2010 Ford Taurus.  Riding around in the luxurious, tricked out new Taurus brought back fond memories for me.

My family has a long history with Ford cars. In 1968, my dad had an old Fiat that he basically drove into the ground. I think he abandoned it or sold it when the door fell off on I-75. After the Fiat met it's untimely demise, my dad abandoned foreign cars forever, bought a sturdy Ford sedan, and never looked back.  For my dad, the ultimate car was an enormous champagne-colored Ford LTD he bought new in the 1970's. My dad was really proud of this car, and it felt to me like we were driving around in our living room.  The seats were more  comfortable than our sofa, and the windshield was like some live action large-screen TV.  Through that enormous windshield, my brothers and I watched the world go by.

After my mom went to work in a local factory, her first job after being a stay-at-home mom for 12 years, she bought the car of her dreams: a Lincoln-Mercury Cougar.  The Cougar was red, fast, and symbolized her new-found independence.  She was a working woman, with her own money, making her own decisions about everything from what color the car was to what music played on the tape deck. I think of my mom's Cougar as her declaration of independence, and remember barreling down the highway with Sam Cooke's Greatest Hits blaring and all of us singing along.  Eventually, I inherited that car when I moved to Austin and declared my own independence of sorts.

Travel Gear Review: Callpod FuelTank

Before our Solar Eclipse Trip, I was offered a cool new travel gadget called a Callpod FuelTank to try out.  Unfortunately, it didn't arrive before the trip, so I used it last weekend on my trip to Pittsburgh for Netroots Nation.  I have to say, I wish I'd had it for the solar eclipse trip, because it really came in handy.

Our family is, like many families, a little gadget-crazy.  We have cellphones and portable gameplayers galore, and when we take them on the road with us, the inevitable always occurs: we lose power at the most inopportune times.  This can be particularly frustrating on a 12 hour flight, when the Nintendo DSi battery decides to fail just as your kid is about to achieve global Pokemon domination. Enter: the Callpod FuelTank, part back-up battery, part sanity-saver.

The Callpod FuelTank is a lightweight, portable back-up battery recharger specifically made for cellphones and portable gaming systems.  It can simultaneously charge two small electronic devices at a time, so you don't have to carry around two different back-up batteries. You need to purchase adaptors for each of your devices, but it comes with one.  I received adaptors for the G1, Sony PSP, Nintendo DS, and Treo. Sorry, but it won't help your laptop (hey, Callpod, when is THAT coming?).  It comes with a carrying case and it's lightweight so it easily fits in your purse.  When your battery runs out in the middle of a flight or a meeting or some other place you don't have access to an outlet, you plug in your device and recharge.

I have a Google G1 Smartphone, and as much as I love the functionality of the phone, the battery life sucks. The phone battery died in the middle of dinner one evening in Pittsburgh, so I whipped out the FuelTank, plugged it in, and was set for the rest of the night, until I could get back to the hotel and recharge both.  It came in handy for a compulsive Twitter addict like myself.

Overall, I thought this product was a winner, and I recommend it.

Disclosure: I received a Callpod FuelTank and several adaptors to try out at no charge. I did not receive any additional compensation or incentive for this review.