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This article was published 18/8/2013 (989 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.
RM of PIPESTONE -- Southwest of the town of Cromer, near Manitoba's western border, it's tough to drive 300 metres without encountering an active oil well or find a rig drilling a new one.
This is the heart of the Sinclair Field, home to the some of the most intensive oil development in southwestern Manitoba, much of it spearheaded by Winnipeg's Tundra Oil & Gas.
As recently as five years ago, a Sunday drive through this corner of the province would grant a motorist near-exclusive access to the section roads that criss-cross the RM of Pipestone's prairie-pothole country.
Now, heavy trucks transporting gravel for building well pads, water for fracks and all manner of machinery kick up dust and gravel seven days a week. It's a scene that's become familiar across this booming Prairie oilpatch, which encompasses broad swaths of western North Dakota and southern Saskatchewan along with smaller sections of eastern Montana and southwestern Manitoba.
The needs of the oil industry have turned into a logistics challenge, as the transport industry scrambles to mobilize resources to serve once-quiet rural areas.
In November, Beausejour trucking-company owner Wes Omichinski packed up his belongings and moved to tiny Reston, population 550, swapping southeastern Manitoba for the southwest. His firm, Williamson Trucking, operates 13 trucks and can't find enough qualified drivers to meet the sand-and-gravel demands of both the Sinclair Field and Pipestone residents suddenly flush with cash.
"People are throwing money at you here," says Omichinski, sitting his office on Fourth Street, Reston's commercial drag. He says his customers tend to ask only when he can deliver -- not how much he's going to charge.
Omichinski said business didn't even seem to subside during the spring thaw, when load restrictions on Manitoba roads typically reduce heavy truck traffic.
His biggest headache is the state of those roads, particularly paved provincial highways.
"They suck," he said matter-of-factly, complaining of potholes, inadequate maintenance and what he perceives to be indifference to southwestern Manitoba on the part of a government based in Winnipeg, 300 kilometres to the east.
"We have this namby-pamby provincial government that only seems to focus on health care and education. That's all they seem to care about," he says. "People here are ambitious. The pace (of development) around here is mind-boggling."
The state of both provincial and municipal road infrastructure is a concern to oil companies, although officials are unwilling to discuss this issue on the record. For example, the continued closure of the bridge over the Souris River at Provincial Road 251 -- damaged two years ago by the record flood -- forces trucks bound to and from the busy Waskada oilfield to make frequent detours.
The provincial Tory Opposition sees frustrations over oilpatch infrastructure as another opportunity to hammer Greg Selinger's NDP government.
"This is the sad state of affairs of a government that wants to reap the benefits of the oil industry but doesn't want to invest in it," Arthur-Virden MLA Larry Maguire said last week in an interview.
Such statements amount to Politics 101 in a deep-blue corner of Manitoba where many ordinary people have little faith in a far-removed orange government.
But the reality is few people in Winnipeg of any political stripe have ever heard of such towns as Reston or Cromer -- let alone realize how much activity is occurring in the RM of Pipestone and the rest of the southwestern Manitoba oilpatch.
Up next: North Dakota, where the oil boom has transformed a state.