Magical Manitoba moments

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 24/12/2021 (1655 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

For a travel writer, these pandemic times could spell disaster. But they haven’t. For me, closed borders have meant open doors and an invitation to do a deep dive into this remarkable province. Over 22 months, I’ve penned 30 stories for this space, largely about Manitoba, and to say I’ve rekindled my love affair with our province would be an understatement.

In Suleika Jaouad’s memoir Between Two Kingdoms, the writer embarks on a soul-searching road trip. Along the way, she gets some stellar advice from a friend.

“When we travel, we actually take three trips,” she wrote of the wisdom. “There’s the first trip of preparation and anticipation, packing and daydreaming. There’s the trip you’re actually on. And then, there’s the trip you remember. The key is to be present wherever you are right now.”

The lines play over and over in my head. To be sure, it’s great travel advice. But that last line should have been printed in bold. So, dear reader, no matter where the road takes you, I encourage you to put the planning behind you and the memories on hold. The magic happens in the here and the now.

Here’s a sampling of my magical Manitoba moments over the last year.

Looking up, looking ahead

It is mid-June, a scorcher of a day that would kick off a summer of record-breaking heat across the Prairies. And a dip in the Whitemouth River was just what the doctor ordered. Wild Skies Resort has just opened, a collection of canvas tents and geodesic domes near Beausejour, resting on the banks of the river. I snag a single night’s stay, pack up our dog Sammy and meet my husband Ivan there to check out these curious domes. We stroll the trails, munch on smoked wings from nearby Blue Haze BBQ and marvel at the twinkling lights that danced at dusk, marking the way to a handcrafted outhouse. But it isn’t until bedtime, when I peer up through the skylight, watch the aspens dance in the breeze and see the first stars begin to blaze, that the magic really happens.

For the next month, I will think of nothing but the dome. There is something about being in a space with no corners, one that offered a breezy barrier between indoors and outside. By summer’s end, we will have our own dome, set up in our farm’s orchard, recapturing that Wild Skies feeling.

Home away from home

We aren’t here for the big parties. Not Canada’s National Ukrainian Festival or CountryFest, two events that have put Dauphin on the map. We’re here for the promise of seemingly endless hiking trails at Northgate Dauphin, the community project that offers a place for mountain bikers, joggers and strollers like us just outside the north edge of Riding Mountain National Park. Sammy marches ahead, checking out creek crossings and dipping into the forest to follow deer trails, where she is beyond thrilled to get behind-the-ear scratches from strangers we meet along the way.

We venture out of town, past Ochre River and into the countryside, where a cabin in a farmyard awaits us. North Mountain Accommodations is two cabins on the edge of the MacCarthy’s homestead. It’s a setting not unlike our home — with far-away horizons and hens clucking around the yard. And yet, we slip into ultra-vacation mode. I watch Ivan touch the muzzle of a friendly resident horse, conjuring days as a youngster when his love of horses started. A short stroll through the woods takes us to the meandering Ochre River for a private dip, an unimaginable luxury that’s nearly impossible to find. We visit with children and kittens, and chuckle as Sammy and Rex plot to capture squirrels.

Call of the Bay

The light is periwinkle blue, painting soaring icescapes in colours I’ve truly never seen before. It’s otherworldly. Here, at the edge of Hudson Bay, north of Churchill, I know I’ll soon be adding this one to the list of trips that has changed me.

It’s April, and adventurers have gathered at Seal River Heritage Lodge to test drive Churchill Wild’s newest offering, a trip called Journey to the Floe Edge. We explore Hubbard Point, where ancient Thule ruins remain, peer down into seal breathing holes, photograph art made by wind on snow and witness a flock of eider ducks coming in for landing on the open, salty water of Hudson Bay.

We scream across the tundra in a full-lined sled pulled by Smokey, Lilly and the rest of the enthusiastic dog team. We sip on North Knife Nulifyers and sample charcuterie boards, served atop an ice table, carved directly from Hudson Bay ice. Some of us even plunge into the sub-zero waters of the bay, earning polar bear dip cred from the crew.

As I sit quietly at the floe edge, back end parked in a snowbank, beneath blindingly beautiful blue skies, listening to a haunting tone that sounds a bit like a descending missile, my visitor pops up no more than three metres offshore — a smiling, comical bearded seal and my new best friend.

My single thought is that Manitoba is beautiful.

shel@shelzolkewich.com