Miquelon And Lac La Biche – I Just Had To, Didn’t I?
Motorcycle Vapors . Social Studies
July 6 – 8 Kilometers Travelled – 1338
The idea was to run a fitness test of body, mind, and machine to see if I still had what it takes to undertake any further moto camping adventures. Some post chemo long range side effect heart/cortisol/troponin issues raised some flutterings and concerns over the long winter. Last year’s trips of roughly 10,000 kilometers took me to and through some rather harrowing places and situations that made me question whether or not I still ‘had it’. The weather schedules and forecasts were suspect and sketchy at best, having denied us any real spring or transitional weather. I was tracking daily to find a reliable window of opportunity that would allow for a three day jaunt up to the Lac La Biche area through another lake area I remembered from my childhood.
I had started my plan, pack, and prep many weeks before departure. My brilliant machine was ready with an oil change, chain service, nut and bolt check, and a thorough cleaning detail. The panniers, tank and dry bag were on the kitchen table for many weeks and just needed some final checks. After locking up, suiting up and a final walk-around, I went.
Ready?
Let’s go!
At 8 am on a bright, sunny, and calm day I headed north on Hwy 2 to Hwy 72 east, to 791 north, to 590 east, to 21 north. My plan was to stop for an early lunch at the Whistlestop Cafe in Mirror Alberta, so I did. I had the special $10 taco soup and crackers. I have to say that the Whistle Stop Cafe festival and rally compound area remains a beacon for freedom and independence minded real people. On that day it looked a bit shop worn but then again, it gets a lot of visitors and hosts so many events. Vandalism is a common occurrance.
After lunch I continued north on Hwy 21 to 609 east, to 56 north, to 26 west. I stop at the Camrose Co-op to fill up and use my Co-op number…for no immediate or lasting benefit. I still remember the family Co-op number from when I was a kid. It’s 7499. Try using it sometime. See what happens. Cheap gas in Camrose. I then take 883 north to 617 west, taking the slower, secondary bi-ways past tidy farm yards and the typical junk metal properties. Many of the fields were flooded in low lying areas. Crop yields will be lower this year. The last stretch is on Hwy 623 north that takes me to Miquelon Lake Provincial Park. The nice but suitably diverse park attendant gave me a choice of available sites away from other campers but close-ish to amenities. I chose a non-powered site 257 which cost $34, mosquitoes included. I used a lot of toxic spray wrongly figuring I’ve earned immunity from chemical contamination. Of course I neglected my ankles. Miquelon Lake held memories for me from when I was a child. It was a rare treat to be taken there as a break from rural life. I think I saw my first sunset on the water there. At the time there was a useable beachfront for sand castles and water play. We usually packed some snacks but there were rare treats from the local concession. The lake and beach are somehow smaller now. Of course I am bigger and older now. Of course the mosquitoes were bigger, more aggressive, and genetically pure. 🙂
After setting up camp and touring the grounds I had a good meal by the fire of scavenged wood which helped divert the mosquitoes. I slept well, waking up only once to drain fluids, being careful not to stir the bloodsuckers. I wake early to boil water for coffee and prepare breakfast. While breaking camp I notice a flattened portion of tall grass that wasn’t there the night before. It looks like something had a bit of a lie down there during the night. I suspect a deer but can’t think of why it might settle so close. A similar thing happened at Rochon Sands last summer. I am awake and not dreaming it. I load up and roll up to the wash house to clean up before I suit up to head out. I decide to do a last tour to see if I can find any beach worth walking on. The closest was at the boat launch. According to AI, ‘Yes, there is a beach at Miquelon Lake Provincial Park. The park features a wide, sandy beach on the shallow western side of the lake, which is popular for sunbathing, picnicking, building sandcastles, and playing in the sand. However, swimming is not recommended in the lake due to naturally high levels of salts, sulfates, and bacteria, as well as low water levels that concentrate odors and vegetation. The beach area is equipped with amenities including a playground, paved pathways, modern washrooms, and change rooms for rinsing off.’
Enjoy your your little getaway!
I opt to take Hwy 623 west and head up Spillstead Road north. Spillstead Road is a classic, winding country road though marsh and farmlands that jags east and north after which I head north on Hwy 834, through Tofield and on to Hwy 16 where I head east to Hwy 855 north. I go north and stop in Mundare for a break. Mundare is home to Stawnichy’s Mundare Sausage House. I usually shop at their Edmonton location but why not buy a few loops of pepperoni to snack on with my mixed nuts. The sausage is good but the false virtue of failed Canadian and Ukrainian flags as well as a plea for donations to support the AZOV battalion and the money laundering grift proxy war slaughter psychological operation.
Suitably refreshed, I continue north to Andrew, a village that was once the hope for a COVID era future intentional freedom community. That dream died like so many due to lack of interest or ideological divisions of the freedom minded. Everything is okay now, so much so that the residents that opposed the intentional community are now proudly ‘Forever Canadian’ and have set up a shrine and campaign office in one of the many vacant storefronts that Andrew is noted for. I can only imagine the gray haired sentimental nationalists sitting inside, knitting, playing canasta, sipping Tetley tea and exchanging declining pension value poverty cat food recipes.
From Andrew I head west on Hwy 45 to 855 north through Ukalta territory consisting mostly of yet more Ukrainian heritage farmland and some beginnings of the boreal forest to be found further north. I drone on, the wind through my visor driving out negative thoughts, replacing them with bits of song and future plans. My confidence is regained with every kilometer traveled. I cross the rather high running North Saskatchewan River on the Smoky Lake Bridge and see signs for Metis Crossing – a sign that I am nearing Indian territory. I pass soon to be outlawed feedlots, their smell preceding the passing.
I eventually make Smoky Lake, a town of roughly 1200 souls. I stop for a pee in the park and some figs and trace mineral water. Smoky Lake is renowned for The Smoky Lake Great White North Pumpkin Weigh-off & Fair. It takes place in early October and features a major pumpkin weighing competition and drop, a corn maze, car show, beer gardens, cultural showcase, farmer’s market and a midway. Its a big deal in these parts. They’ve been running it for 35 years.
Linus van Pelt is a smart but naive child character in the Peanuts comic strip created by Charles M. Schulz who holds a steadfast belief in the Great Pumpkin, a legendary figure who rises from the most sincere pumpkin patch on Halloween night to deliver toys to children. First introduced in 1959, Linus’s conviction is often described as a humorous confusion of Santa Claus with Halloween, leading him to spend wistful nights waiting in patches he deems free of hypocrisy.
Linus would love it in Smoky Lake.
“You can look around and there’s not a sign of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see.” – Linus
I stay north on 855 passing yet more farms, some tidy and prosperous, some junky and rusty, heading into more marshy bush country and an area indicated on the map as Buffalo Lake Metis Settlement. The only visible signs of settlement are littered ditches, a Centex fuel station and convenience store, gated junk properties, and a rather elaborate and expensive looking complex called the Tom Blyan Memorial Rodeo Grounds where the Gateway To The North Pro Rodeo is held. There was nary a horse or cow or cowboy to be seen. Look it up. I listen intently, above the hum of my brilliant machine and the wind rush, for the voices of the missing, murdered and indigenous women and children, They are apparently speaking to me to assure me that there is no need to seek evidence of wrong doing and residential school burials. To seek evidence and justice constitutes residential school denialism and could land me in kangaroo court and render a judgement of fines or jail time. Do not question the ghosts and the generalized knowing….or else. A few minutes later at the intersection of Hwy 663, I am officially welcomed to Lac La Biche County. Hwy 663 takes me east past Hylo and the active scene of a train derailment clean-up which involved a CN Rail freight train carrying sulphur. 10 cars had derailed on July 6, 2026 and temporarily closed Hwy 663. There were no injuries or environmental concerns and there is no cause determined as yet. The road closure signs were still up but the road was open. After Hylo I saw signs for Venice. I keep going. I’ve been to the other one. The last stretch takes me further north until I link up with Hwy 55 east which takes me into town. I decide to fill up at the Shell, you know, to get my 3 cent/litre AMA discount but as usual there is a cost to this saving. Of course I had to go into the store 3 times to get my cards to work and to get a receipt. Phone calls had to be made. With a full tank, I check Google maps to get directions to Sir Winston Churchill Provincial Park. Google Maps advised that SWCPP was closed. WTF?
So I rode on to the park to find it open.
The park was named after a racist, drunkard, royalist, imperialist politician whose ancestral home was Blenheim Palace. He believed in racial hierarchies, advocated the use of chemical warfare, facilitated the Bengal famine, authorized the firebombing slaughter of Dresden, and was basically the archetype of everything that globalist UNDRIP types are using to establish a New World Order.
What does this have to do with moto-camping in old growth boreal forest?
Everything and Nothing.
Lac La Biche is a French name that translates to ‘Lake of the Doe’, or ‘Lake of the Elk’. The name may originate from a Cree phrase for the large body or water, which early European explorers and fur traders translated into French.
While looking up the definition or origin of the name, I stumble on this entry from The Urban Dictionary
One translation for LLB? – ‘Where all the white women at?’
“Absolute cluster fuck of absolutely nothing there is nothing in this big ass town for a single soul to participate in that is not getting wasted, mugged, walking, siphoned, or stabbed other than those options there is fuck all to do.”
“Let’s not go back to Lac La Biche”
Lac La Biche by Jeremy Landy, November 12, 2018
The name Jeremy Landy appears in the provided context only as the username of an Urban Dictionary contributor who posted a negative definition of the town of Lac La Biche in November 2018, with no verified connection to the criminal case or the victim.
Key facts regarding the incident:
Indian victim Landy Shirt was reported missing on December 3, 2021, and was found dead in a Lac La Biche apartment on December 19, 2021. Suspect Indian Lorne Cardinal, 25, was wanted for alleged first-degree murder in connection with Shirt’s death and was arrested in Edmonton in January 2022 after fleeing the scene. Due to the lack of further public updates, trial results, or sentencing news since 2022, Cardinal is presumed to remain in custody as the legal process continues under publication restrictions. Of course the way things are in Canada, there is a two tier legal system that allows for secrecy in criminal investigations, trials and justice depending on certain demographics and inconvenient history. Even in resource colonial Alberta it might be interesting to know that so many places have French, British, or Indian names.
What does this last bit have to do with this trip?
Everything and nothing.
Sir Winston Churchill Provincial Park is Alberta’s only camp-able island park, making it a haven for paddling, beach days, birding, fishing, and boating. You’ll enter the park via a causeway for a panoramic view of Lac La Biche. An old-growth forest covers Big Island, where you’ll find campsites and a general store where the locals come for ice cream. Hiking trails, including an accessible trail and boardwalk, wind through 300-year-old boreal forest.
The nice young lady at reception checked me in to a $42 powered site as sweaty campers stumbled in, lining up for ice cream. I set up camp and decide on another fire but gleanings are slim so I opt to buy a $10 bundle of wood. Of course I had to line up behind the ever growing mob of ice cream enthusiasts. I settle in to the pleasing routine of making camp, meal prep and clean-up and settling in for some campfire maps, writing, and catching up on e-mails and messages I’d rather not see. Sometimes I welcome the coming information and internet lockdowns. I am blessed with smoke free skies this trip but the sun sets differently over LLB this night. The light is different. It might just be a heat haze filter but it might be a combination of lake reflection mixed with the greening, climate emergency algae blooms.
From the advisory:
A cyanobacterial (blue-green algal) bloom and/or toxins have been identified in the waters of Lac La Biche Lake. Residents living near the shores of this lake, as well as visitors, are advised to take the following precautions:
- Do not swim or wade in any areas where cyanobacterial blooms are visible.
- Avoid all contact with cyanobacterial blooms in the water and washed up on shore. Wash with clean tap water as soon as possible if contact occurs.
- Do not drink or cook with water from this lake.
- Do not eat whole fish or fish trimmings from this lake as fish may store toxins in their liver. Fish fillets contain less toxins and are safer to eat.
- Keep pets away from the water. Do not allow pets to swim in areas where cyanobacterial blooms are visible or to contact blooms in the water or on the shore.
- Do not feed whole fish or fish trimmings from this lake to your pets.
Enjoy your provincial park!
As always, visitors and residents are reminded to never drink or cook with untreated water directly from any body of water, including Lac La Biche Lake, at any time. Boiling of this water will not remove the toxins produced by cyanobacteria. An alternate source of drinking water should also be provided for pets and livestock while this advisory is active.
Enjoy your visit!
I sleep well, dreaming Felliniesque vignettes from past or future lives that will be filed and forgotten. I wake early to break camp while doing the coffee breakfast thing. I think to do a proper toilet/shower routine at six in the morning while the facilities are unoccupied and clean. I finish packing and suiting and snapping and buckling and start my brilliant machine. Yes, I serviced the bike last night and remembered to clean my visor and windscreen.
My initial homeward route after SWCPP was to take me around the lake.
So off I went, east on Hwy 881 and then north and west on 858. This early morning run offered scenic views of some scattered farms and the lake as well as the Owl River Recreation Center, campground and cemetery. The road became gradually worse, showing signs of low maintenance and about half way round gave up to a sign that said ‘pavement ends’. It ended in extremely deep gravel that I was not excited to navigate. I was in a relaxed mood and didn’t want to spoil it so I turned back to enjoy the other side of the road and passed back through LLB, connecting to Hwy 55 west to Atmore. Of course, in spite of a clear weather forecast, a wall of black loomed in the distance. I notice a sudden drop in temperature. As I entered Grassland I stopped with confidence to throw on my rain suit. As I started out of town the first flashes and bangs started as well as some fierce winds and fat rain. I calmly opted to turn back and seek shelter as long lines of hail battered cars started rolling in to town. I found shelter under the awning of an Esso/Squishy Mart. I was already saturated and starting to unzip when fat hail started pummeling down. The streets turned to rivers as a wet and clearly frazzled, wild eyed Harley rider and passenger rolled in. Visions of last years apocalypse at Chaplin, Saskatchewan and Fargo, North Dakota flashed along with the current canon fire and muzzle blitzkrieg. After congratulating myself for not letting the storm get into my head and dripping somewhat dry, I continued west and north on 63 and 831 to the village of ‘not much happening’ Boyle and then way, way down to Waskatenau pronounced ‘WAH SET NA’.
Of course Waskatenau is a Cree word meaning “opening in the bank” in reference to the clef in the nearby ridge through which the Waskatenau Creek flows. White European settlers built the village and the rail road that runs through it.
I continue south, crossing Hwy 28 after checking the weather schedule/forecast. Doppler offers a severe weather warning….somewhere…anywhere…anytime. It clouds over and I hit 15 kilometers of construction slowing me down as I pass through non-towns called Skaro and Star. I take another bypass through Lamont where I fill up with gas at yet another dysfunctional Shell. I angle down Hwy 15 and take 834 to continue my line south to bypass Tofield this time. It’s also known as Toetown. I don’t know why. I carry on through Round Hill, elevation negligible. I head west on Hy 26 to take 56 south, take the oddly placed and conspiratorial? roundabout at Hwy 13 and carry on to cross on the Dried Meat Lake bridge again. I slow roll through Stettler where work life memories of ‘hey, I used to come here a lot and didn’t like it much’ ebb and flow. I’m back in more familiar terrain again and I start to fade in the heat and stop in Big Valley for some rest, Mundare sausage and an apple and drink fluids…and a pee. After Big Valley I head west on Hwy 590 through more yellowed wet crops to Hwy 21 south through Trochu where Wesley Hargreaves came from. I carry on to Three Hills at zero elevation and stop for some gas and a now rare Red Bull at the local Petro Can. I comment on the $4.10 price tag. The DEI clerk smirks and frowns. After the smirk and frown I head west on the ultra crappy pavement of Hwy 583 to 806 south to 582 west. I join the mayhem of Hwy 2 south for the last beeline home.
I get home at 5:30ish pm, 9 hours after leaving the Lac La Biche area.
Tired.
Sweaty.
Unbloodied.
Unbowed.
I did not become a human road crayon.
I did not become an organ donor either but by default I have been told by medical experts that my organs or blood have no safe value to anyone that might need them.
I’ll keep using them thanks very much.
I am ready for the next adventure.
Am I ready for the next adventure?
Do I still ‘have it’?
Dunno.
Let’s go!
Leave a Reply