We woke early and, knowing a long drive was ahead, decided to stretch our legs with a walk from the campground down to the lakeshore. The morning was cool and brilliantly bright, the town still quiet except for a small queue forming outside the bakery. The lake lay perfectly still, its surface flat and mirror‑like—a calm, simple way to start the day.
To get back onto our original route after flooding forced us to skip Dauphin, we left Riding Mountain heading north, aiming to cross Lake Manitoba at a spot called the Narrows. The drive through the park was gorgeous, and descending into the wide farmland to the north felt almost cinematic. As a bonus, our bear count ticked up by one.
An hour later, after endless straight roads with no traffic, the scenery shifted to flat, open stretches of scrub and swamp. It felt bleak—no houses, no barns, nothing for miles. Just as we were saying so, we crossed a small bridge marked “Lonely Lake Drain“, which summed up northern Manitoba a little too perfectly.
Eventually we reached the Narrows, a modest bridge spanning Lake Manitoba. We’d imagined rugged shoreline and dramatic views, but it was surprisingly underwhelming—though it did make clear just how enormous the lake is. We agreed the extra hour of driving wasn’t worth it.
Onward to Winnipeg and Bird Hill Campground, a huge, heavily treed campground northeast of the city. The sites are private and walled by bushes, but getting the trailer into ours was a circus act thanks to a badly parked car across the road. After some swearing and roughly a million tiny maneuvers, the trailer finally landed where it needed to be. Power only, so setup was quick, and off we went.
Georgie had been finding the bed too firm, even with the 4 cm Ikea memory‑foam topper we’d bought earlier. So our first mission was… Ikea again. Naturally, it was on the opposite side of town, meaning another hour in the truck. We made it with time to spare and found a second topper to stack on the first. Next stop: a bike shop for a replacement tire and tube for Georgie’s back wheel.
A friend of mine from work lives in Winnipeg, and we’d talked about meeting up if timing worked. Just as we were leaving the bike shop, she called—we were only sixteen minutes from their place. We dropped by for tea, then headed out with Jagruti and her husband for a great Indian dinner.
By the time we wrapped up, it was late, and we still had a fifty‑minute drive back to the campground. We said our goodbyes and made our way back to the trailer, ready to collapse into bed.
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