Day 3 – 8/4 Menomonie, WI to Winnipeg, MB
Some travel days are about checking miles off the odometer.
Others are about discovering places you never knew existed.
Today was definitely the second kind.
The morning began with another easy drive west through Wisconsin before crossing into Minnesota. My destination was Quarry Park in Stearns County, a place I had never heard of until planning this trip.
Jack and I spent about a mile and a half exploring the trails. I never found the wildlife or landscape photograph I had hoped for, but I wasn’t disappointed. Hidden among the trees were crystal-clear quarry pools, their deep blue water separated into swimming areas that looked like a local secret. It wasn’t a tourist attraction filled with crowds or souvenir shops. It simply felt like one of those places where the people who live nearby know they’ve got something special.
It reminded me that not every worthwhile stop has to produce a great photograph.
Sometimes it’s enough just to experience the place.
Back on the road, we continued toward Fargo, North Dakota.
I expected another interstate stop.
Instead, I found a downtown that immediately felt welcoming. Jack and I wandered the streets together while I admired the old brick buildings, local businesses, and public spaces. Parts of the city were clearly being revitalized, but it felt like Fargo was becoming something rather than trying to be something else. It struck me as a city I’d enjoy spending another day exploring.
By late afternoon we reached the Canadian border.
🚧 Border Crossing
Crossing Into Canada
Travel Journal Sidebar
There were six or seven cars ahead of me at the border. One by one, each driver answered a few questions and was waved into Canada.
Then it was my turn.
Maybe it was the fact I’d been living out of my Tahoe for several days. Maybe it was my black SUV with heavily tinted rear windows. Maybe it was the Pelican case full of camera gear. Whatever caught their attention, I wasn’t getting the quick wave through. The officer handed me a yellow slip of paper with a few handwritten notes. One word stood out:
Dog.
I was directed to park and report inside the inspection building. After about ten minutes in the waiting room, another officer called me up and asked many of the same questions again, along with a few new ones. Then I waited some more. Finally, two officers escorted me back outside.
They had me take Jack into a nearby grassy area while they went through my Tahoe from front to back. Every compartment was opened. Bags were moved. Storage bins were unpacked. The vehicle I’d carefully organized for weeks slowly became a yard sale. About thirty minutes later, having found nothing of concern, they thanked me for my cooperation.
Then something unexpected happened.
The same officers who had just searched every inch of my vehicle began recommending places I should visit while traveling across Canada.
It wasn’t the welcome I’d imagined, but it certainly made for a memorable beginning to the Canadian portion of the journey.
Crossing into another country always feels like the adventure has shifted into a higher gear. Different signs, different money, different accents—and suddenly everything feels just unfamiliar enough to make it exciting.
Winnipeg didn’t get off to the best start. A couple of my planned stops turned out to be disappointments, but that’s part of travel. Not every recommendation works out.
Then everything changed.
I walked into Original Joe’s.
The bartenders welcomed me like I’d been a regular for years. Their friendliness never felt forced—it was simply genuine hospitality. They suggested I try a local Micro Burst Hazy IPA.
It was outstanding.
In fact, it was so good I ordered a second.
They also insisted I couldn’t leave Manitoba without trying poutine. Imagine Thanksgiving comfort food served in a bowl—crispy fries buried beneath cheese curds and rich gravy. It wasn’t exactly health food, but it absolutely belonged on the list of Canadian experiences.
As if that wasn’t enough, one of the bartenders surprised me with a complimentary Caesar, Canada’s famous cocktail made with Clamato juice and garnished with a pickled green bean. It wasn’t something I would have ordered on my own, but I’m glad I tried it.
Those unexpected conversations with complete strangers are often what I remember most about traveling.
Long after I’ve forgotten how many miles I drove, I’ll remember the kindness of people who simply wanted a visitor to enjoy their city.
That evening Jack and I settled in for the night at the nearby Flying J. It was quiet, comfortable, and felt perfectly safe.
Tomorrow we’d begin crossing the vast Canadian Prairies.
The West was getting closer.
Jack’s Notes 🐾
Dear Journal,
Today finally included a proper hike.
For about a mile and a half I investigated every interesting smell Minnesota had to offer while Dad kept looking for photographs. I don’t understand why he points that camera at rocks when there are squirrels everywhere.
Then we visited another city where people kept telling Dad how nice I was. I accepted the compliments with my usual humility.
The best part of the day happened in Canada. Dad found another place with delicious-smelling food and strange drinks. Everyone there was unbelievably nice to him.
I was unbelievably nice too.
Oddly enough, nobody offered me fries covered in gravy.
Humans still have much to learn.
Tonight we’re sleeping at a place called Flying J. I have no idea who J is, but he seems to have plenty of parking.
— Jack
